Mendacity
by labyrinthinemelange
Summary: Another Asgardian has fallen to Earth, leaving Jane hopeful of Thor's return. But her hopes are dashed when the visitor is revealed to be someone else entirely: Loki. In-character, canon excepting post-credits scene.
1. Fallen

**PROLOGUE**

"Darcy! Darcy, wake up!"

"Hrmph mmu phhle?"

"Get up, Darcy, it's him!"

"Ghrmmhuh. Him, who?"

"He's back! Thor!"

Darcy's eyes shot open.

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

To be honest, Darcy had been considering sending Jane to a mental hospital over the last two months. Okay, more than considering. She had gone so far as looking up local psych wards and rehab centers in the Yellow Pages.

Jane was obsessed. If she had been a slight workaholic before the incident, she was an absolute fanatic after the fact. She lived, breathed, slept with his shadow always over her shoulder. She was practically worshipping him.

Darcy assumed—if history did indeed repeat itself—that raping and pillaging and horned hats could ensue from the worship of a Norse god. But she never had to act in opposition to her friend's cultish obsession. Fate intervened.

* * *

><p>Agony. Absolute, blinding agony. He couldn't think of another word for it. His ears rang with the echo of every painfully slow heartbeat. He felt as if he were melting—as if every cell, every atom in him were in the heart of a bonfire.<p>

No, he could think of another word for it now. It was the only word.

Ragnarok.

* * *

><p>"Hurry up, Jane. We have to get there before someone else does."<p>

"I know, I know, I'll be out in a minute."

Darcy sighed. Not ten minutes ago, Jane had been nagging _her_ to move faster. They had been ready to go until Jane had caught a glimpse of herself in the trailer-door mirror.

"Aw, for cryin' out loud," Darcy grumbled five minutes later. "It's not like he's going to care whether you're wearing 'Dusky Rose' or 'Scarlet Sunrise' lipstick once he's sucking it off."

"Darcy!"

"I'm just saying. You'd get to the face-sucking a lot faster if you'd just get in the car like you planned."

Darcy looked up as the bathroom door slammed open, revealing a flushed, slightly shaky Jane.

She forced a smile as she yanked on her sweater.

"This is it. Everything will be fine," she said faintly. She shook her head, a giggle threatening to spill out. "I can't believe he's back."  
>Darcy gave a less-than-enthusiastic eyebrow waggle. "Let the tonsil hockey commence."<p>

* * *

><p>Damn it. For a few precious moments, he'd been unconscious.<p>

He let a shuddering breath out through his teeth, willing his nerves to shut down. He begged for relief. A cold breeze, an icy touch, anything to stave off the fire keeping him hostage.

He began to wish for death.

* * *

><p>"The impact should be about a half mile north of here." Erik glanced at Darcy over the top of the GPS. "We'll have to go off-road."<p>

"You mean we were on roads in the first place?"

Jane let out a smile at that, a tiny crack in her mask of composure. Darcy knew she was trying to hold it together. She kind of preferred it that way. She had never seen Jane truly ecstatic, but it would almost definitely involve gleeful shrieking, skipping, and/or frolicking, all of which were activities better suited to flowery meadows and babbling brooks than deserts at 3 am.

"How fast is this thing coming up? I'm thinking we should try to avoid roadkill-Thor this time around."

"He may have moved from the crater site. Let me find the heat sensor mode on this camera."

Darcy maintained her course as Erik fiddled with a series of knobs and buttons in the back seat.

He let out a triumphant noise. "Got it." He rolled down the window and leaned his head into the gusts of the night. He cast his eyes and camera about the car in all directions. His brow furrowed.

"Jane, did Thor have a normal body temperature?"

She turned around, glancing at him cautiously. "Yeah, I think so. He certainly gave off what seemed like normal body heat."

Darcy snorted at the blush, visible even in the dark, spreading over Jane's cheeks. Her grin quickly vanished as the mood in the car turned serious.

"What's wrong?  
>Erik shook the camera. "There's nothing with a humanoid heat signature in our radius. Unless he walked out of our range in the time it took us to…" He stopped abruptly.<p>

Jane's eyes went wide. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

Erik shook his head and rubbed the camera lens frantically with the edge of a handkerchief.

"This can't be correct. The camera must be color-coding backwards or something." He squinted into the darkness. "Right in the center of the carter, there is a humanoid form. But according to this reading…it would have to be an ice sculpture."

"Frost giant?" Jane asked anxiously.

Erik shook his head. "If it is, it's somewhat a misnomer. It's smaller than Thor."

"Frostbite?" Darcy offered.

Erik pursed his lips. "Maybe. The signature's not right—with frostbite, I'd expect the extremities should be colder than the body core, not the other way around—but if he's been out long enough..." The GPS twittered shrilly. Erik tightened his grip on the camera. "We're coming up on him. Only a few hundred feet off."

Darcy turned her gaze back to the desert ahead. She could see the crater growing in the distance. One hundred feet…seventy…

"Let me out."

Darcy slammed on the brakes. Jane was unbuckled and flying out the door before the tires were finished squealing their protest. Erik and Darcy tumbled after her, abandoning keys and equipment in their frenzy.

Darcy fell behind as her taller companions bounded towards the ridges in the desert floor. She swallowed dust as Jane and Erik stopped abruptly at the edge of the innermost crater rim, peering down at the ground.

She staggered over, short of breath, as the others stared at the crater in disbelief. She crouched down, squinting into the shadows to see.

"That's not Thor."

"No," Jane said hollowly. "Three guesses who it _is_."

Darcy looked at the man in the middle of the impact intently, trying to read his features…black hair, pale skin, gaunt with dark circles under his eyes…something in his scowl deeper than mere pain from the impact…

Erik's voice broke the silence grimly. "Loki."


	2. Agony

**Author's note: I'm entirely not sure how I have two reviews already, since I can't actually find my story published yet. I suspect time travel may be involved. If any of you care to share your secret, please enlighten me; I lost my Time Turner earlier this week and I'm frantic without it.**

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Gawd, is he the coma-deity or something?"

"God of mischief, Darcy. And lies. And, depending on who you talk to, evil. According to myth, he spends the majority of his time thinking up or putting into action schemes that involve the suffering or humiliation of others. Be glad that he's unconscious for the time being."

Darcy flopped over in a chair next to Loki's cot, her legs dangling over the edge of the armrest haphazardly. "Yeah, I'm not seeing any gladness in my future until he wakes up. Jane's going to be homicidal if she can't ask him some questions soon."

"Yes, well," Erik sighed, "I'll try to keep sharp objects away from her at least."

The room fell silent except for the sounds of Loki's slow breathing. Darcy frowned as one of the breaths turned into a shuddering groan.

"Do you think he's in pain?"

"I'd be surprised. When Thor fell he was fine except for not having the hammer. This bloke should've come down the same way, by Bifrost."

Darcy fell silent for a second, studying Loki's face. "He _looks_ like he's in pain."

"Yeah, well, he'll heal. He's a god. Jane on the other hand…she might never get over this."

* * *

><p>Loki opened his eyes slowly, trying not to move any of the muscles in his face as he did so. The pain had faded somewhat, but he dared not send anything into spasm again by moving. He permitted himself only to breathe as he looked around the room.<p>

He was in a small, dimly lit space, lying in an uncomfortable cot of some kind. It was unfamiliar to him, but the architecture suggested Midgard. Actually, it bore some similarities to the holding cell where he had visited…

He grimaced as a wave of pain shot through his body. _Best not ponder that right now. Agitation will only lead to more pain._ It seemed to be centered in his lower back, a long jagged line of pure torment along his right side. He gasped aloud as the fire reached a new clenched his fists in the sheets, gritting his teeth as the pain made its way down his legs and up through his arms and head. _This is worse than the snake venom._

He couldn't hold it back any longer. He let out a groaning yell as the line of fire twitched and sent another, stronger wave through his body. He screwed up his eyes, trying to hold back the tears brimming there.

"Jane!" He heard a female voice somewhere across the room. Somehow, the awareness that someone else had seen him dampened the flames slightly. _Placebo_, he told himself, _I'm anticipating relief. _He shuddered; the line gave a harsh clench as if it were trying to tear his back apart.

"Jane, I think he's having a seizure!" The female voice again, this time slightly more frantic.

He could hear two pairs of footsteps pounding into the room, one right behind the other.

"Darcy, what happened?" A second female voice, this one stirring a memory somewhere in the back of his mind. "I told you to keep an eye on him!"

"I got up to go refill my coffee. I came back and he was flipping out like this! I didn't do anything, swear to God!"

"Do we have any anesthetics?" A male voice, calmer and steady.

"Booze?"

"SHIELD gave us a med kit. Check in the supply cabinet."

The man's footsteps hurried away. Loki felt a small, warm hand on his forehead, moving back as if to smooth his hair.

"He's not an ice sculpture any more. Should we worry?" The hand pulled away as the sound of the first woman's voice did.

"No. He was probably just in shock when he fell. I don't think even a god of his descent could be naturally as cold as we found him."

A wave of agony drowned out all coherent thought and sound in Loki's head. He had the faraway feeling that he was saying something, babbling, but he couldn't hear anything except the rushing in his ears. _Please let it end._

* * *

><p>"Don't…Never…See her…With you…Destroy…Father…Thor…"<p>

"Shh," Darcy hissed quietly. "Relax, dude. We're trying to help you." She clasped one of his hands comfortingly—anything to make him hold still. His fingers wound around her small wrist like boa constrictors, clenching her hand in an iron hold.

She winced. "Could you guys hurry up with the drugs? I think he's pulverizing my fingers."

"Why did you do that?" Jane asked, exasperated.

"I don't know! He keeps flailing around, and he was muttering all pathetically, I thought he might chill out if someone held his hand."

Jane let out a loud noise of impatience as she stomped out of the room after Erik. "Any luck?"

"Yeah," he called from the hallway. He began walking towards them with an open box and a small bottle in his hand. "They included some morphine."

Jane seized it from his hands and began fishing in the box. "Great," she said distractedly. "Let's hope we have a god-sized dose in this bottle. Aha!" She grinned with triumph, yanking a syringe from the tangled mess of the med kit.

She strode towards Loki quickly, working the syringe into the opening of the morphine bottle and drawing some of it out.

"Hey, maybe some of this will put the kibosh on his scheming for a while."

"Here's hoping. Grab his arm."

Darcy took her good hand and unbent Loki's arm into a vein-accessible position. She noticed faintly that though he was thinner than his brother, he was muscular enough to offer resistance even in his pained state.

"Here…we…go…"

Jane pressed the needle into one of the larger veins visible at the crook of his elbow and pushed the plunger down as far as it would go.

Loki groaned, tightening his grip on Darcy's hand even further. Her eyes watered reflexively.

"How long," she squeaked, "—how long until it kicks in?"

Jane drew the needle out quickly, handing Darcy a small patch of gauze to press to the puncture. "Don't know. He's not human. I don't even know that it will—"

As quickly as it had started, the pressure on Darcy's hand vanished and Loki went limp on the bed. His face settled, and he shifted slightly into a more comfortable position.

Darcy unwound her fingers from his hand slowly, staring at his face to try and gauge his reaction. It remained smooth and impassive. She smiled and let out a tired laugh. "That was easy."

* * *

><p>Loki felt himself slipping away into numbness, the fire in his veins turning cold once again. He was vaguely aware of a small hand brushing his hair back as he faded into blackness. His lips turned up slightly in a smile, his thoughts falling away faster than he could think them. Peace at last.<p> 


	3. Truth

**Author's Note: This fast pace might not continue for long, just so you know. I've just been procrastinating lately, and I tend to get writer-ish when I'm procrastinating on actual work. Anyway, thanks for all the lovely reviews, any constructive criticism or praise is always taken with open arms.**

**CHAPTER THREE**

"He's coming to." The male voice again.

Loki opened his eyes blearily, half expecting another wave of agony to hit him.

_Nothing._

He sighed his relief, but frowned nonetheless. Something was off…

"How are you feeling?" Loki glanced at the speaker: the familiar woman. He realized now that she was the one Thor had been seeing. _The one who turned him soft_, a cold voice in the back of his mind added. She didn't seem much of a softening influence now, though. Her arms were crossed and her expression was severe, right down to her emotionless brown eyes. The question sounded more like a demand, an inquiry, not a voice of concern.

Loki swallowed briefly before speaking. _Dry throat. How long have I been asleep? _"Conscious," he said stiffly, keeping his eyes squarely on the woman's face.

Pretty. Obviously smart. He could see the appeal…somewhat.

"Capable of answering questions?" she said sharply, interrupting his trail of thought.

Loki licked his chapped lips, considering. "That depends. There are some questions that I would like to ask myself." The corners of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "And is your first question, 'who are you?' Because I've grown rather tired of that one."

"We know who you are," the woman said irritably. She met his stare evenly, a victim refusing to stand down from the predator. She relented after a moment. "You may ask us questions. Whether we will answer them—" She shared a private glance with the man in the room. "That is another matter," she finished.

Loki raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider. _It's not as if I have a choice._ "We have a deal," he said. "Now…" He sat up cautiously, testing the waters of the newfound pain relief. To his surprise, he found himself able to sit up slightly, and did so, before he turned back to the woman. "My first question is: what did you do to make the pain stop?"

The woman turned to give a questioning look to the man in the room. They seemed to be carrying on a conversation of some sort with passing glances. The man nodded. The woman seemed to decide that this was a safe question.

"Morphine. It's an Earth painkiller. We gave you a strong dose to stop the convulsions."

"The mystic dolphins talking to you yet?"

Loki's eyes darted across the room. _The other woman, the one who had called for help,_ he realized with a pang. She was younger, small, with full lips and large blue eyes. She wore something over her eyes—glasses, they were called. Pretty, he decided. Also probably smarter than one would expect; she had a look of mischief in her eyes that seemed to suggest that she was planning something, or coming up with ways to be belligerent.

The girl apparently interpreted his searching look as confusion, or perhaps disdain. She blushed and mumbled something that sounded like 'sorry.'

The woman cleared her throat and, after a lingering second, Loki returned his gaze to her. She seemed mildly annoyed by the young woman's bizarre interruption.

"My turn," she said flatly, staring him down once again, her eyes searching for the first hint of a lie. "How did you get injured so badly?"

"I fell."

The woman gave him a skeptical look.

"You fell?"

They weren't going to let him control this conversation by omission. _Damn._

"From Asgard. The…" His voice cracked. "The Bifrost shattered. Thor broke it."

His words hung in the air for a moment. He noticed the whole trio, not just the elder two, exchanging looks.

"What?" the woman said finally, her voice a far cry from the cold tone she had used only a moment ago. She sounded shaky, as if on the verge of tears.

Loki sighed heavily, his eyes darkening. "Thor broke the Bifrost in order to protect the jotun world from an attack." He paused. "_My _attack. I thought that my people desired war and victory above all else but…apparently when it comes to Thor, they have room in their hearts for diplomacy."

The woman stared at him uncomprehendingly, her eyes shining. "He broke it?" Her voice came out a mere whisper.

"I warned him that he could not return once the bridge was destroyed. But he made his choice. I fell as the bridge collapsed."

Loki glanced at the three of them. He noticed the girl opening her mouth to say something, but the woman interrupted.

"You lie," she said faintly. Her whisper turned into a broken sob. "You lie!"

"I do not," he said in a flat voice. "What motivation could I have to lie about this?"

The woman was inconsolable. She continued sobbing breathlessly as she dove towards Loki furiously. He shrank away from her instinctively, protecting his injuries. "Liar!" she screamed, pounding her fists against his chest. "Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar…"

"Jane!" The man intervened, grabbing the woman by the shoulders to pull her away from Loki. Her refrain of accusations dissolved into incomprehensible wailing. "Come on, Jane," the man persisted, "let's get some fresh air." He steered the woman into his shoulder as she began to verge on hysteria. Her arms draped around his neck for support as she continued crying desperately.

The man gave the girl a mildly frantic look as he slowly backed out of the room.

"Darcy," the man said calmly, "keep an eye on him." And he closed the door.

Loki closed his eyes as the last sounds of the woman's tears faded away behind another closing door. After a brief silence, he turned to the girl and opened his eyes.

"You were going to ask me a question earlier?"

The girl nodded, her eyes fixing on his face as Jane's did. There was something decidedly different about her gaze, however. Jane had seemed accusing, suspicious. She knew who he was.

The girl did not. But she seemed quite intent on finding out, the way she was studying his facial expressions.

"You said you fell from the bridge," she started hesitantly, a far cry from her earlier, jesting tone. "Why…why didn't Thor go after you?"

He was taken aback that the girl had come to understand Thor's impulsive nature so quickly. He fought back a lump in his throat before speaking, his eyes fixing on a point across the room. He couldn't look at the girl. She seemed to be looking right through him. She was entirely too perceptive.

"I chose to fall."

He felt the silence grow heavy in the air. He turned back to look at Darcy, only to find her still staring directly at him, her blue eyes understanding but sad.


	4. Motivation

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"Now, now, Jane…"

Darcy pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear what Erik and Jane were saying.

"This can't be true. This is not happening. He promised!"

She flinched. Jane's angry yelling was a sizable decibel difference from Erik's even tone. She pulled away from the door only to find a pair of light green eyes inches from her face. She stifled a yelp.

"Sorry to interrupt your eavesdropping," Loki said, "but the morphine is beginning to wear off. I require more."

Darcy blinked rapidly, trying to slow her racing heart and resist the urge to taze Loki. "Here on Earth," she ranted in a low voice, trying to avoid being heard by Jane or Erik, "we don't sneak up on people." She looked off to the side. "Well, unless the results are guaranteed to be funny and someone has a camera and YouTube account handy…" Loki stared at her blankly. She shook her head, waving a dismissing hand in the air. "Nuance. Ignore my babbling. Anyway, how the hell did you get out of bed? I thought you were like, crippled or whatever."

"I am. For the moment." He uncrossed his arms. "I am astral projecting. You are not actually having a conversation with me in person. This is only my consciousness. My body is still back in the bed." He reached out and guided her hand through his face casually. "See?"

Darcy gaped at him and then at her hand, opening and closing her mouth wordlessly. Loki flinched.

"Please excuse me. My physical body is in pain and it grows taxing to project in this condition. If you would fetch the morphine…"

He vanished, leaving a very surprised Darcy in his wake. Shaking her head, she began searching for the med kit.

* * *

><p>Loki wasn't sure why he had done that. The mortal girl wasn't simple; surely she could comprehend that he was not corporeal without a demonstration. And even if she did require a demonstration, why not just walk through a wall? Why did he pass her hand through his cheek like that?<p>

The idea troubled Loki for a moment until it occurred to him: shock value. He had done it to scare the girl. He smiled. God of mischief, even when injured.

_You did it to impress her,_ a nagging voice in the back of his mind said. _Scare, impress…it's a very thin line between those two words._

But Loki ignored the little voice.

* * *

><p>Darcy still wrestled with the childproof cap on the morphine when she entered Loki's room.<p>

"So…" she said, breathless and distracted by her efforts with the bottle. "Totally weird question for you…"

He quirked an amused eyebrow at her display, watching as she struggled in vain.

"Go on."

Darcy gasped in exasperation, wringing her hand as she failed once again to open the bottle. She breathed hard for a moment, then found her voice.

"Why aren't you healing faster? I thought you god-types were nearly invincible."

Loki smiled wryly. "Invincible? Far from it. We can be hurt and die just like humans. It's merely more uncommon. We heal somewhat faster from most minor injuries." He glanced after Darcy as she ducked into the bathroom for a towel to assist her battle. "As to this injury's particular difficulty, I don't know. It may be a normal side effect of my rough landing."

Darcy _mm_ed noncommittally on her way out of the bathroom, bottle still unopened.

Loki rolled his eyes. _Mortals._ He flicked a wrist gently and the bottle opened with a quiet 'pop.'

"Aha!" Darcy smiled triumphantly and looked up to share her grin with him. He quickly lowered his hand and forced a benign smile to hide his amusement._ Let her think she did it. _

"How much did Jane give you earlier?" she asked absently, holding the bottle up to eye level as if to gauge how much was missing.

He made a low noise in the back of his throat. The pain was coming back stronger again. "We do not use the same units of measurement on Asgard," he said hoarsely. "I couldn't say."

"Eh, let's go with 'a butt-load,'" Darcy said, noticing his discomfort out of the corner of her eye.

Loki frowned, more a reflex to the spike of pain that had just shot up his spine than to her comment. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. _Distract yourself. Focus on talking. _

"A 'butt-load?'" he said thickly. "That is a most unusual form of measurement."

Darcy snorted abruptly. Loki opened one eye to glare at her. It was an honest if somewhat dull inquiry.

"Sorry," she said, swallowing her laughter. The corners of her lips kept twitching upward, threatening to smile. "I was kidding. We don't actually measure things like that on Earth. It's just an expression."

He pressed his eyes shut again against another wave of fire. "Odd expression," he said through gritted teeth. He felt the small hand from earlier on his wrist—so that had been Darcy. He squinted at her hazily.

"Can you relax your arm a bit? I can't stretch it out. You're clenching."

Loki realized distantly that he was and unflexed his arm.

It was as if a floodgate opened. Streaks of pain began shooting up and down his right side, the tendons in his arm tensing involuntarily. He gritted his teeth.

"Hurry," he grunted.

"I've got it. This might hurt a little."

He laughed hollowly as he felt the needle brushing the crease of his elbow, the muscles in his stomach aching from the motion. She had no idea.

He heard the noise of a pin dropping across the room. He realized with a start that Darcy had finished and was throwing away the needle. The pain was already beginning to taper away.

He breathed deeply, revelling in his ability to do so without fear of pain.

"Thank you," he muttered. He froze instantly.

Darcy paused. "You're welcome."

Loki heard the noise of a box being closed and Darcy's footsteps fading away down the hallway. Only when she was gone did he allow himself to go limp again.

The bitter voice in the back of his mind was furious. Why? Why did he thank a mortal? And more to the point, why did he thank one of Thor's friends?

_Self-preservation, _he told himself. From a purely utilitarian perspective, it made sense to be courteous his caretakers. If he could lead them to believe that he was trustworthy, they would give him better care and possibly allow him to walk free more quickly. Logical.

The voice fell silent at that, and Loki managed to fall asleep with a small smile on his face.


	5. Shard

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"Ah, crap!"

Erik looked up from his laptop and paused in his data entry. "What happened?"

Darcy stomped into the kitchen irritably, waving the bottle of morphine. "Hear that?"

He frowned. "Should I?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "It's not sloshy. It should be sloshy, because that would mean there is liquid in it. But it's empty. So…"

"No sloshy?"

She nodded.

Erik sighed and looked back down at his screen. "Take it up with Jane. If we need supplies, she'll get them. She's the one SHIELD is actually talking to."

"Ah. That could be problematic."

"I don't see how," he said flatly, returning to his typing.

"It's for Loki."

Erik stared at Darcy, stunned into silence for a moment. "The morphine is gone already? But that was a 1200 milliliter bottle. How many doses has he needed so far?"

"About six."

Erik rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "Let me get this right…you've been giving him two drug-addict sized doses every day for the last three days?"

Darcy gestured frantically. "Well, he is kind of a _god_."

Erik chuckled, turning a page in his scribbled notes to the next page of data. "You're on your own, kid. I'm not going to try and explain this one to Jane."

* * *

><p>Loki closed his eyes and focused his hearing on the kitchen. The opportunity of hearing what they were actually saying about him was too good to miss.<p>

The voices came in faintly at first, but grew more focused as he recognized their voices and adjusted to their individual speech patterns.

"…I'm not going to try and explain this one to Jane."

"Come on, Erik. She's not going to listen if I ask. She'll probably think it's because I have a crush on Thor's hot brother or something."

He chafed at his characterization as 'Thor's brother.' But _hot_… He wasn't yet fully familiar with Midgard vernacular, but he guessed it was something to do with appearances. _That attraction could prove useful_, he mused.

"You're saying you don't?"

"Beside the point!"

He amended his earlier thought. That attraction _would_ prove useful. But Darcy wasn't finished with her statement. He focused intently again on their conversation, trying to regain the gist of what she was saying through the words he had missed.

"…he almost killed us last time he was around. What happens if we piss him off by letting him suffer?"

"Darcy, if the stories I was told as a child have any truth at all, Loki is a sorcerer. He's not like Thor with brute animal strength, nor the sort who would go on a rampage when he doesn't like something. His power is in the mind. If his mind is crippled by pain, it would most likely hamper his ability to do magic and thus render him useless."

"Okay, but what if the stories weren't true? Can we risk it?"

"In my opinion? Yes."

He could almost hear Darcy thinking in the silent pause that followed.

"I don't think you even disagree with me."

"Don't I?"

"I think you're just scared to argue with Jane."

Erik gave a booming laugh at that.

"Oh, Darcy. Only you would take psychology classes for the sole purpose of manipulating people in arguments."

Loki suppressed a snort. That sounded like quite a good idea, actually, for someone without the innate talent to get inside peoples' minds as he did.

"Not _only_ for that reason."

Loki heard no reply from Erik, and wondered for a moment if something had happened to his hearing. Then Darcy spoke again.

"Look, are you going to help me appease the vengeful god in the spare room or not?"

"Not."

The floor gave a little thud in what sounded like a boot stomping on the floor. "Ugh," he heard Darcy grumble. "Fine. I'll deal with her myself."

* * *

><p>"Why should I?"<p>

"Gah!" Darcy pressed her hands to her ears in frustration. "Do I really have to keep explaining this to you people? He is a _vengeful god_. He is sitting _in the spare room_. Just for the sake of him not, I don't know, murdering all of us in our sleep, shouldn't we try to make him as comfortable as possible?"

Jane glared at Darcy with uncharacteristically cold eyes. "No."

"Jane, you're being completely unreasonable."

"He tried to kill Thor and all of the innocent bystanders who were in his vicinity." She crossed her arms. "Which, in case you've forgotten, included us."

"Exactly. He's a threat."

"I don't care."

Darcy removed her glasses for a moment and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Let me get this straight…You'd be okay with being killed if it meant Loki suffered a little bit?"

Jane's eyes flashed, but she didn't say anything in reply. She stared down at her notes furiously, pretending to study in an attempt to ignore what the girl in front of her was saying.

Darcy rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Do you realize how crazy you sound?"

"If you think he's such a threat, go ahead and nurse him back to health. I don't give a damn," Jane snapped, her voice breaking as she swore. She glared at Darcy and returned to her work. "But I'm not helping you."

Darcy sputtered. "Me? But I don't know the first thing about god anatomy. You're the only one who's been close enough to one of them to know what 'normal' looks like."

"Not my problem."

Darcy scowled, but she'd seen that look before. That was the 'Hello-my-name-is-Jane-Foster-you-tried-to-kill-my-boyfriend-prepare-to-die' look…the look that Jane got whenever she was in the same room as Loki.

_No use arguing with her now_, she told herself as she stomped off grumpily in search of the basic first aid kit.

* * *

><p>Loki screwed up his eyes as another jolt of pain rippled through him.<p>

"AUUUUUUGGGGHHHH…" He gritted his teeth to hold back the scream.

Darcy jumped and let go of his arm in shock, holding her hands up in an 'innocent' gesture. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she stammered. "I'm a little unfamiliar with the whole god-physiology thing and what's normal."

"Well, I'll give you a hint," he snarled, half wishing the girl would stop prattling to ease his headache and half-hoping she would keep it up to distract him from the agony. "This pain falls into the category of decidedly abnormal. Now for the love of Yggdrasil, fix it!"

"I'm trying!" she snapped, her terror of being in the same room as him vanishing as her frustration boiled over. "But I'm afraid your sassy Norse commentary isn't very helpful. So unless you have something to say, for crying out loud, SHUT UP."

His eyes snapped open in astonishment, and he turned to stare at the girl, trying to determine if she was incredibly brave or just incredibly stupid. Then his glare softened.

Darcy's eyes were wide and shining…and terrified as she realized what she had said, and who she had said it to.

He wasn't sure if it was the lighting in the room, or merely the whites of her eyes turning pink as she tried not to cry, but her eyes suddenly looked a brighter blue than he had ever seen before in a mortal.

He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes again. _Stupid_, he told himself. _This wasn't part of the plan. You were supposed to make the girl like you, not scare her to tears._

He let out a sharp sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Loki opened his eyes in surprise again. He had not been alone in speaking.

The girl gave him a shaky smile and a little sniff, apparently realizing that he wasn't going to annihilate her.

"That was rude," she mumbled in a high, tight voice. "I'm sorry."

He sighed again, clenching his teeth for a moment as a jolt of fire shot through him. "The fault was mine," he said tersely when he had regained control of his muscles. "I let my tongue get away from me in the pain. It was uncalled for."

Darcy swayed awkwardly, apparently unsure how to reply to that. "Well," she said finally. "Anyway, I don't know if I can figure out what's wrong with you. You're definitely reacting more when the right side of your body is tensed or in motion, but I…" She froze, her brow furrowing in thought.

"What?" he asked.

"Turn onto your side," she said flatly.

He frowned, raising an eyebrow at her, but complied, shifting his weight to the left as gently as possible.

"Oh my gawd, what is that?"

* * *

><p>"What? What is-ARRRGHH!" Loki screwed his eyes shut as he yelled out, his back arching in rebellion against her actions.<p>

She stared, wide-eyed at what she had pulled out from the wound in his back.

Apart from the bloodstains on the jagged corner that had sliced into Loki, it looked almost like a piece of jewelry, or maybe a component to a found-art piece. It was clear, but it shimmered with opalescent rainbows…and Darcy could swear—even though she was holding it still—that the colors were _moving_ across the fragment.

"Dude, pardon my French, but what the _fuck_ is this _thing_?"

He hissed in pain. "That depends," he growled through gritted teeth. "What does it look like?"

"Sort of clearish…jagged around the edges…got some blood on one side of it...looks like something out of My Little Pony."

"I don't know what that is!" he snapped furiously.

"It's shiny," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Like on a close-up photo of a bug or something…"

Loki froze.

"It's opalescent?"

"Is that fancy-speak for 'shiny with rainbows?'"

Loki rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling vacantly, his eyes vacant. "Yes," he said hollowly. "That's exactly what it means."

"So what?"

"It's a piece of the Bifrost. A piece must have fallen and cut into me when it shattered, as I was plummeting to Midgard."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

He gave an empty laugh. "Yes. It is. The Bifrost is one of the few magical objects so powerful that the gods did not build it with their magic alone. They had to use some of the magic from each of the worlds that the bridge ties together. Three different worlds, thrice the magic."

"And?"

He turned to glance at her with eyes that now seemed icy, more gray than green. "You recall asking whether gods are invincible? They're very close to it. There are few objects powerful enough to truly hurt a god. The Bifrost is one of them."

"So?" Darcy said with a little laugh. "You lived. You're healing. So what, it hurts more than a normal wound?"

"Hardly," said Loki darkly. "I'm not healing at all. The Bifrost has done more than scar me. It is draining my strength, my magic…my immortality."

Darcy froze. "What?"

"The Bifrost is robbing me of my immortality. If it continues to infect me, I _will_ become mortal. And I _will_ die."


	6. Solution

**Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger…well, okay, I'm not really sorry. It will more than likely happen again. It's the way I write. Plus I kind of do a happy little author dance when I actually manage to freak people out by cutting the story off abruptly. (What can I say? I like making trouble.)**

**Anyway, some of your reviews intrigued me, and I felt the need to both clarify and answer some things that were said there. First of all, the shard has been removed from Loki already—it is the magic that remains in him, poisoning him. It seems I wasn't very clear. Secondly, in response to Kereea's review, I will not say what direction this story will take, but I will say that you are not quite correct. There will (obviously) be more plot motion with the shard, but it will not quite take that form.**

**As always, reviews are almost as greatly appreciated as the sound of Tom Hiddleston's voice. (Almost. Not quite.) Please read and review. Even if it is just to tell me I suck, I'm interested to hear in what particular way I have failed as a writer.**

**Without further ado…**

**CHAPTER SIX**

Darcy stared at him blankly.

"Die?" she said.

"Yes."

She sputtered for words. "As in, pass on? Cease to be? A stiff, without life, rest in peace?"

"That would be the general idea of 'death,' yes," Loki said without humor. "Unless, of course, I can come up with magic strong enough to counteract what has already entered my body," he said dully, "which is unlikely, given the fact that I can't think of a spell that would do such a thing and they don't seem to be particularly keen on magic around here."

Darcy paused for a moment, the gears in her head grinding together fruitlessly. Then she smiled, a little light bulb practically forming over her head.

Loki's scowl deepened. "What are you grinning about?"

She waggled her eyebrows, glasses glinting in the light as she made for the door. "I have an idea."

"Of course you do," he grumbled. But he didn't stop her as she headed outside to the car.

* * *

><p>Three long hours later, Darcy returned, arms straining under a half dozen books that weighed almost a third what she did.<p>

Loki's eyes widened slightly when she came in.

"Is this your idea?" he asked incredulously. "Put me out of my misery by killing me under the weight of some books?"

"No," she said breathlessly, setting the books down with a heavy 'thump' on the table next to Loki's bed. She pulled one from the top of the stack and held it out for display. "It's what's _in_ the books that I'm interested in."

Loki frowned, but took the unlabeled book from her, opening it curiously to read the first page.

He blinked, entirely disconcerted. "Mythology?"

"_Norse_ mythology." She shrugged. "You know, the Vikings. They thought you and Thor and what's-his-face were, like, God-gods."

"That they did." He tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. "This…this could work," he admitted, raising a surprised eyebrow. He glanced at Darcy's face. "What are you up to?"

"Me?"

"No, the other mortal in the room handing me books." He rolled his eyes. "Of course, _you_. Why are you helping me? What exactly are you trying to gain from this?"

Darcy crossed her arms, affronted. "You think I'm doing this for gain?"

"You mortals are a notoriously selfish bunch."

"You're a fine one to talk," she said sarcastically, picking up another book from the stack. "What was it, exactly, that you did to Balder?"

"I brought him back afterward," Loki snapped. "I made a deal with my daughter—who, by the way," he added, seeing her surprised look, "was the result of joined magic, not a sexual relationship with that hag I used to associate with…" His eyes glazed over, his chin pulling back in something resembling nausea. He shuddered slightly.

Darcy shook her head, visibly recovering from the incongruous idea of Loki having children. "Okay, so the Vikings left the whole fixing-your-mistake part out. But you're just as bad as people are. Sometimes worse." She scowled again. "And just because some people are bad doesn't mean we all are. We might be selfish, but we're also inexplicably altruistic. My psychology professor spent a whole lecture offering theories as to why humans do good things, but there isn't a real reason. Sometimes we just do good things for the sake of being good." She held her hands up in a mock-surrender gesture. "That's my gain, man. I'm not really interested in anything you have to offer me."

Loki paused. "I see," he said, unconvinced. He sighed. "Well, it hardly matters in any case. I'm not really in any position to bargain properly, so I have to accept your help regardless of whether I trust your motives or not." He shifted his features into a more neutral look. "Now: how good are you at skimming?"

"Decent." She smiled guiltily. "Although I usually know what I'm skimming for in novels. I check Spark Notes first to figure out what the important parts are."

Loki looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the childish simplicity of human cheating. "That's fine," he said. "I know exactly what we're looking for."

"What is it called?"

"Look for the words 'Thrice Magic.'"

* * *

><p>"I've found it."<p>

Darcy looked up blearily, wiping her glasses off on her shirt. _Totally not falling asleep while reading this. Nope. _"Meh?" she mumbled.

"Thrice Magic. I found a reference to a spell that can help me."

Darcy arched her back as she got to her feet. _God, how long have I been sitting here?_ "Mm," she yawned. "What is it?"

Loki handed her the book in reply.

She scanned the first page. She paused. "You were a woman once?" she asked.

Loki sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "The other page," he said stiffly. He paused. "And I was much prettier than Thor was."

Darcy smiled slightly. _He's never hearing the end of that one._ She forced her face into a more serious position with some effort and bit her lip to stifle the giggles—and amusing mental images—as she eyed the second page. Her heart sank as she read. She read it a second time, slowly, just to be sure.

"Are you sure this is the right spell?" she asked.

"Positive."

"_This_ spell? The Thrice Blood variation of Thrice Magic?"

"Is there a problem, mortal?"

She widened her eyes slightly. "Um, yeah, mucho problemo. The Bifrost is kind of gone. How the hell are you going to get—" she squinted at the page, "'a drop of jotun blood?' Or god blood, for that matter," she said. "I'm guessing that your own doesn't count."

"That is correct," Loki said. He sighed quietly. "On both counts. I will need the blood of another Asgardian in order for this spell to work…and the Bifrost is broken."

"Then this spell is useless," Darcy said bluntly. "If you need to get to Asgard, and your only way to get there has been destroyed…" She stopped short, shoulders slumping. "Unless," she said, the cogs in her head turning, "you have another way." She stared at him. "You have another way, don't you?"

Loki didn't say anything. The answer was clear in his light green eyes.

"You…you had a way back there the whole time?" she stammered. "And you didn't _tell anyone_?"

He remained silent. Darcy shook her head furiously, turning away from him as she did so.

"I'm getting Jane."

"I would prefer you didn't," Loki said plaintively.

"You said it yourself earlier." Darcy crossed her arms. "You have no bargaining power. This concerns Jane, and I am going to tell her something that she has a right to know." She shrugged, throwing her hands up. "You don't have a leg to stand on."

She stormed off, trying to keep the smile from showing on her face until she was out of Loki's sight. _Thank you, thank you, god of mischief_, she thought to herself. _You just saved Jane. _


	7. Preparations

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"JANE! JANE! JANE! JANE!"

Jane knocked her chair over in her mad dash to get across the room. She began to run intently—until she barreled straight into a small, dark-haired mass of breathless screaming.

"Jane! There you are! Thank goodness…"

She sighed, slumping her shoulders in relief. "That's not fair, Darcy," Jane said wearily. "I thought Loki was attacking you or doing something horrible." She shook her head, sitting down to resume her work. "If you're done crying 'wolf,' I have a fair bit of number crunching to do."

"I wasn't trying to scare you…but this is serious, Jane, you have to come back to Loki's room."

"If this is about the morphine again—"

"Forget the morphine! Jesus, just come on!"

Darcy tugged on Jane's arm as if trying to dislocate her shoulder.

Jane rolled her eyes and gave Darcy the sort of look she might give a particularly persistent four-year-old. "What is so important back there that you can't explain it to me here and now?" she asked skeptically.

"It's way too complicated. Loki's explanation will make more sense to you. He talks all fancy like you do when you're in government-official mode."

"I'm not wasting my time until you tell me what's so important that I should even bother talking to _him_."

Darcy threw her hands up in desperation. "Fine," she groaned. "Long story short, he knows a way to travel without the Bifrost."

"Yeah…It's called a car."

"I mean," she said, exasperated, "across dimensions or space-time-fabric or whatever the hell it is. He knows how to get to Asgard."

Jane's head swiveled so fast that Darcy worried she would get whiplash. "Asgard?" she repeated. "As in, his home…where Thor is?"

Darcy bobbed her head.

Jane's eyes were wide as saucers. "Move," she said, brushing past Darcy brusquely. "I need to speak to him."

* * *

><p>Loki was surprised by how long it took the Jane woman to arrive in his room. He had half-expected her to come breaking through the walls in a frenzy, but when she entered, she seemed no worse for the wear—merely determined, with an almost maniacal look in her eyes.<p>

"_You_," she said without preamble. "You have a way back to Asgard."

Loki paused, considering whether to play all his cards at once. But then, he realized, Darcy already knew the whole truth, and despite her tendency to beat around the bush before getting to her point, it would be a very short matter of time before the truth came spilling out.

He nodded. "I do." He met Darcy's eyes questioningly as the girl came to a stop in the doorway behind Jane. "Has she explained the circumstances to you?"

Darcy answered first. "I'm kind of fuzzy on the details. I thought it would be better for you to explain it, you know, correctly."

He sat up with some difficulty, propping himself up against the wall for support. "Alright," he said, with a brief nod to the space at the foot of his bed and the folding chair. "You may wish to take a seat. The explanation may be a bit long for you mortals to remain still and standing."

Darcy promptly sat with a muffled 'thump' an inch from his feet. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, glancing expectantly between Jane and the folding chair.

She paused for a moment before sinking into the chair tepidly, as if expecting some trickery or enchantment on his part. _Not unheard of_, he thought, suppressing a smile.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Now," he said, "how much _has _Darcy explained?"

Jane crossed her arms. "I didn't realize there was so much to explain," she said sharply, shooting a disapproving look at Darcy. Her skeptical gaze turned to Loki. "If you're just going to weasel out of this and tell me that you can't _really_ travel to Asgard, please, tell me now before I waste any more of my time."

"I have no intention of _weaseling_ out of anything," he replied smoothly. "There are merely some…niceties that need to be explained."

Jane pursed her lips, but didn't get up and storm from the room. Loki took this as his signal to continue.

"The first is my injury, which sparked this whole dilemma. Upon examination, Darcy told me enough information to deduce what the nature of my wound was: a shard of the Bifrost, falling from the sky as I did, cut into me and remained there until earlier today when it was removed." He sat forward slightly. "Are you familiar with the nature of the Bifrost?"

Jane nodded. "Three worlds, three sources of magic," she said briskly. "Allowed your kind to travel between worlds like a highway or a bridge."

"Exactly, and herein lies my quandary: the Bifrost is one of the few magical objects powerful enough to do a god long-lasting, permanent damage." He paused. "That is, terminal injury."

"Terminal? But you didn't die."

"Not yet." He leaned back against the pillows. "But the magic is slowly poisoning me. If it had remained in the wound much longer, I expect it would have killed me. Instead, it is slowly draining my immortality and most of my magic. Over time, I will become mortal and, eventually, I will die."

Jane shrugged. "Great. So, you're mortal now. How does that get us to Asgard?"

Loki smiled dryly. _The impatience of mortals_. "I'm coming to that. At any rate," he continued, "it was obvious to me that only very powerful magic would restore my immortality, magic that would be beyond my abilities even without my weakened state. With Darcy's assistance—" he gave her a slight nod, causing a pink hue to spread across her cheeks, "—I discovered a spell that could heal my injuries. It is surprisingly simple, however it will not be easy to achieve."

"I don't understand…"

"It requires artifacts from each of the three worlds that the Bifrost once bound together," he said simply. "In this instance, it must be blood because the injury is to myself, a being, rather than an object. The Bifrost had magic from three worlds, so I shall need the same degree of power to combat it. A drop of human blood, a drop of jotun blood, and a drop of blood from an Asgardian other than myself."

"There's still something I don't understand," Jane interrupted after a brief pause. "How does any of this explain how we get from here to Asgard, or to Jotunheim, or anywhere? It's not as if this spell is telling us any way to get between worlds that we didn't already…" Her eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth wordlessly for a minute before finding her voice. "You son of a bitch!"

"Pardon?"

"You knew all along!" she said thickly, her voice wavering between icy rage and furious tears that threatened to spill over. "Since the moment you got here, you knew that there was a way back, and you said NOTHING?"

Darcy flinched.

Loki's face remained impassive. "I thought it irrelevant," he said coolly. "I didn't realize that I would have to travel between worlds. I thought my magic was fading simply because I was on Earth, that it would be a permanent, but harmless, state of being. Until I realized that my immortality was in danger, I had planned to remain here."

"But you watched Thor suffer! You watched _me_ suffer! You just sat there and looked on as my heart broke because I thought that I would never be able to see the man I love again!" she screamed at him, almost shaking with fury. Her voice dropped to a low whisper as she struggled to keep a lid on her rage. "If I didn't need you to get to Asgard," she said coldly, "I would kill you right now with my bare hands and not feel the slightest twinge of guilt."

"Well, those feelings are regrettable, but I'm afraid that we each need the other right now," he said without emotion. "You need transport to Asgard to be with Thor. I need blood from a human and basic assistance in my travels in my injured state." He shrugged slightly. "If we do not agree to help each other, I'm afraid we are at an impasse."

"Never go in against an Asgardian when death is on the line!"

Loki and Jane turned in unison to stare at Darcy, Loki merely puzzled and Jane angered by her flippant remarks.

She remained motionless for a moment, looking back and forth between their reactions. She smiled awkwardly with a meek duck of her head. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Ignore me. Argue to your hearts' content." She waved a hand. "Pretend I'm not here."

Jane's glare lingered upon Darcy's face for a moment before returning to her staring match with Loki. She pursed her lips.

"Well, it doesn't seem that I have a choice but to help you." She sighed sharply. "We have a deal. You will accompany me to Asgard, and I will give you the blood you require upon my safe arrival there."

Loki ran through the words a couple times, searching for potential trickery on the mortals' part. _No loopholes, no routes of escape for either party…_He nodded. "An acceptable arrangement. Deal."

He held out a hand to Jane. She hesitated briefly, then grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake.

_Done_, he thought triumphantly. _And with no bloodshed. _

Jane rose to her feet. "Well, if we're working together," she said, "then there are some arrangements to be made."

"Agreed." He tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. "We should depart soon to maximize the magic I have available to myself. I will need to perform a simple pain-elimination spell upon myself to make travel feasible, and create garments more fitting to the environment of Jotunheim…Apart from that, I don't believe there is anything else that I can be held accountable for."

"Create garments?" Darcy asked. "You mean, for all of us? If you can do that, then why not leave right now? You can just make food and warm clothes as we go."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work quite like that," he replied. "Magic upon oneself is quite simple…not very draining at all. I can change my clothes like you mortals blink, and the only reason I haven't been lessening my pain magically this whole time is because I wished to store up my magic in case I had an emergency while remaining on Earth. Magic upon other people, or their possessions…that's far more difficult." He shook his head. "No, I can make my own clothes, I can relieve the pain, and I can transport about four people to Jotunheim and Asgard. To do more magic than that would be cutting it very close, and possibly put my immortality in more danger than it is already."

"You only need to transport three people," Jane interrupted. Loki gave her a questioning look. "One of us needs to stay to work for SHIELD. I'm leaving for sure, so it has to be either Erik or Darcy."

"Erik," Darcy said quickly. "In case we can't travel back. I'm just an intern. I couldn't possibly take over, much less forever if something went wrong."

"That seems prudent," Loki conceded. "In fact, quite apart from your research, if I had to choose only two of you, I would definitely choose to leave him behind. You're both women. The jotun will not perceive you as a threat."

"Gotta love sexism," Darcy said sarcastically.

Loki smiled slightly. "Antiquated notions of women do have their uses." He turned to Jane. "I assume you mortals have a means of obtaining warm clothing and food?"

She nodded. "There's a camping supply store in the next town. I don't think we'll be able to carry everything we want, but we should be able to manage food and some blankets in addition to our clothing."

"Good," Loki said. "In that case, I will rest while you and Darcy purchase the necessities."

Darcy tossed the keys up in the air. They landed in her palm with a slight jingling noise. "I'll get the car. You can tell Erik the news."

"Oh goody," Jane said flatly.

* * *

><p><em>Loki followed the snowflakes with his eyes as they fell to the ground, feeling them melt upon his face as they met warm skin.<em>

Odd, _he thought. _My skin is cold.

_He pondered this problem as he walked through the thick blanket of snow…until he came to stop by a large block of scarlet-streaked stone in the middle of a large pavilion._

_He frowned, shivering slightly, as he approached the block. _What is it?

_Something dry brushed his face. He flinched, blinking it away. It tickled his skin. He watched it fall to the ground slowly, dancing in the wind: a single strand of long, dark hair._

_Now he was truly bewildered. His hair wasn't nearly so long…only brushing his shoulders when it was smoothed back. _

_HE GASPED. A sudden stab of pain, cold and then burning hot deep in his stomach. He looked down and saw the scarlet spreading through his coat, darkening it…tainting the snow in tiny droplets of shock and agony._

_Yet somehow, as he felt himself falling to the ground distantly, all he cared to look at was the lock of hair, dancing in the wind._

* * *

><p>"I am <em>not<em> wearing that."

Jane groaned as she held out yet another jacket for Darcy's inspection. "Do you have an alternative suggestion?" she snapped.

"Yep," Darcy said cheerily. She produced a slim-cut black coat of wool from a neighboring rack.

Jane rolled her eyes. "A real suggestion."

"What? I think it's cute."

"Darcy, we're going to be heading to a frozen wasteland, and all you care about is _cute_?"

"It's not _all_ I care about! But come on! Look at that monstrosity you're holding! I'll look like a big, blue marshmallow wearing that thing!"

"You'll be warm."

"I'LL BE A MARSHMALLOW."

"Fine," Jane said flatly. "You want to wear that thing, be my guest. I'll make sure to draw everyone's attention to how cute your jacket is at the funeral after you die of frostbite."

Darcy rolled her eyes, but didn't reply as she tossed her black jacket into the cart with Jane's pink marshmallow monstrosity.

"Let's get some food to pack too," she said. "I don't care what dimension we're in, I'm not repeating Finals Week, Freshman Year."

"What happened during Finals Week of Freshman Year?" Jane asked, smiling.

"The microwave died." She shuddered. "I spent five days drinking water and eating little bags of peanuts from the vending machine."

"Water won't be an issue, at least. According to Loki, the snow on Jotunheim is just like Earth-snow…it's just frozen water. Assuming we can make fire, we should have no problem making normal dorm-type food."

"Hooray for ramen."


	8. Arrival

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"I see no reason why we should not leave tonight." Loki glanced between the two women. "I assume, of course, that preparations are finished?"

Jane looked disconcerted. "No, no, we have what we need, but…tonight? Do we really need to leave so soon?"

Loki shrugged. "It's as good a night as any. I am sufficiently rested, I am maintaining a pain alleviation spell upon myself, and you have what you require to get through a day or two of negotiations with the jotun."

She pursed her lips. "Could we say our goodbyes to Erik first? Well, mine anyway," she said hurriedly. "Darcy will be back. But this is it for me."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I'm not stopping you from doing whatever business you deem necessary before we depart." He leaned back. "But I would like to be leaving in a matter of hours. The longer we remain, the weaker I become."

Jane nodded. "That seems reasonable," she said in the closest thing resembling a kind tone that Loki had ever heard used in connection to himself. She turned to Darcy. "Come on. Let's get this done with."

* * *

><p>"You're going to bloody <em>Asgard<em>."

"I'm sorry you can't come with us, Erik," Darcy said glumly. "I'll try to take pictures, if the camera works there."

Erik scoffed. "Pictures? Bah. It's not the sights I'm interested in. It's the data. Do you realize how much we could learn from being in another world?" His eyes turned glassy and vague.

Jane smiled sympathetically. "I'll try to send Darcy back with some observations," she said. "And maybe I could convince someone who understands this whole magic thing to let me come back and visit every so often."

Erik sighed, giving the two women a sad smile. "Yes, well…in any case, it has been a pleasure to work with both of you. Take care of yourselves." He grinned. "And I'd tell you to take care of Thor, but I think he could take care of a planet single-handedly if he wanted to."

"We'll be safe," Jane said, hugging Erik briefly.

Darcy hugged him too. When she pulled away, she had a frown on her face. "Hang on…what are you going to tell SHIELD?"

Erik snorted. "Tell SHIELD? As far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened. You two just vanished one night without a trace, and that's the story I'm sticking with. Eh?"

Darcy smiled. "We never saw you."

"Atta girl," Erik said jovially. His face turned serious. "Farewell to you both."

With a final clap on the back, he turned to return to his work. He hesitated halfway to the lab.

"Oh yes," he called. "Try not to irritate Loki too much. He might not have much magic right now, but I hear his children can be quite nasty when they intend to be."

* * *

><p>Loki felt a pair of eyes on the back of his head as he transformed his clothing into something warmer and more suitably human. He turned around to see who it was.<p>

Darcy stood in the doorway, apparently transfixed by the back of his head.

He quirked an eyebrow at her sarcastically. "I am not going to remove my shirt in the process of changing my clothing if that's what you're after."

Darcy was unruffled. "How many children do you have?" she asked simply.

Loki was taken aback. He had been expecting something more…_shallow_ out of her.

"A few," he said cautiously. "All of them the result of magic performed by myself and a hag by the name of Angrbooa. We were associates in creating chaos, mischief, you could say, for a long time." He frowned, partially confused by her sudden interest in his life, but mostly because he realized the sweater he had just created was bright blue and hideous. "Why do you ask?" he said brusquely, turning the shirt into something more palatable…and black.

Darcy shrugged. "Just some comment Erik made about your kids being nasty at times. Probably mythology-based."

"Well, this Midgardian mythology may contain many errors, but in this case your friend Erik is correct." He smiled sardonically. "They did learn from the best." He turned to Darcy. "I assume, then, that you and Jane have spoken to him?"

She nodded. "Everything's ready to go."

"Good." Loki created a heavy black overcoat from thin air and slipped it over his plain clothes smoothly. "Get your things. With luck, we will be leaving shortly."

Darcy nodded and scurried off to find Jane.

Loki watched her leave and turned back to the mirror, glancing at his attire to be certain that nothing would give him away as a god. He scowled. The scarf thrown around his neck had somehow turned midnight blue. He changed it promptly back to black with a tiny wave of his finger.

As he left the room and turned the light out, he stretched his fingers experimentally. The gaffes in his magic bewildered and nagged at him until he felt the cool night air against his face.

_The illness,_ he realized. It was interfering with his ability to do magic properly.

What he wasn't sure of, however, was why his mistakes were so focused on the color blue.

* * *

><p>"Are you certain you have everything you need to survive the duration of our negotiations?"<p>

"Yes."

"No."

Loki gave Darcy an exasperated look.

She smiled. "I mean, I'm sure we forgot something, but we won't remember it until we're gone anyway, so what the hell." She shrugged.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes with great difficulty. He had more important matters to attend to.

"Well," he said, "since we're as ready as we will ever be to travel, I'd best explain how this is going to work." He stepped forward into the crater where he had been found—they had all agreed with Erik's suggestion of erasing the evidence of their departure, not leaving any new traces behind lest SHIELD catch on.

"You will each take my arm," Loki continued. "I suggest you link your elbows with mine in case you become dizzy—we can't have either of you letting go while we are travelling."

"What happens if we let go?"

Loki gave Darcy a look. "You will fall into a swirling vortex of doom and despair that will suck your life away until you're nothing but a corpse plummeting through space and time."

Darcy's eyes glinted in amusement, but she rolled them nonetheless. "Yeah. Right. What really happens?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I was unconscious when I tried it. However, if you'd like to test it yourself, please, be my guest."

Darcy had no reply to that. Jane filled the silence quickly.

"Is there anything else we need to know? Do we need to think of our destination, or tap our heels together three times, or—"

"No," he said. "I will take care of the magic. Your job is to hold on to me and not let go." He paused. "And if you suffer from—what do you call it?—_motion sickness_, I think you ought to close your eyes."

"Why? Do we go upside down or something? Because upside down roller coasters make me totally sick."

Loki held out his elbows impatiently. "Just hold on and don't let go," he repeated. _They'll be fine._

Jane linked arms with him obediently, tucking her elbow into her side to get a better hold. Darcy, with some hesitation, looped her arm through his and stood as far from him as she safely could.

Loki gave each of his arms an experimental wiggle.

"Good," he said. "Are you ready?"

Jane nodded fervently, her eyes screwed shut. Darcy just gulped.

"Hang on," Loki repeated.

And in a blinding flash of light and color, they were gone.

* * *

><p>Darcy's heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She had no coherent thoughts, just a base instinct to run and hide and curl up in a ball and get away from this sensation of falling, of chaos, of terrifying loss of control.<p>

Her face found something solid and she buried herself in it, trying to sink her arms and legs and head into the tangible something, desperate for an object to cling to.

She forced herself to breathe slowly, allowing the something's scent of leather and musk and an aroma she couldn't name to flood her mind. Slowly, her heart stopped racing, and she opened her eyes to the multicolored chaos.

* * *

><p>Loki almost cried aloud with the pain. He had known that he would have to temporarily cease his anesthetic spell in order to travel between worlds, that he would overload if he tried to do too much magic at once—but he had not expected this, this feeling of being torn apart, of having something shattering inside him.<p>

His mind flashed back to the dream, and he felt the wound reopen in fire across his stomach.

And then he saw it…the dark hair, floating just across his vision as he faded. He followed it, turning to see where it went.

His sight dissolved into two spheres of blue, and he was gone.

* * *

><p>Darcy tumbled to the ground, sending fluffy white snow flying everywhere as she landed. She made a muffled noise as she sputtered to breathe, to free herself from the pile of icy slush.<p>

She emerged from the flurry gasping for breath, the icy wind stealing her breath away almost as fast as she regained it. She cast her eyes around desperately, looking for something besides white and cold and infinite.

"Jane!" Her voice cried back to her softly, echoing off some stony surface she could not see through the haze of snow.

"Over here!"

Darcy turned to the noise and smiled, relieved: Jane was extracting herself from a heap of ice two feet away, her pink coat slowly coming into view.

Darcy shivered, holding her coat close to her for warmth. "Where's Loki?" she shouted over the howling wind.

"We were both holding hands with him, he should be somewhere nearby." Jane looked up to the sky. "Loki!"

"Jane, he's here!" Darcy yelled, guiding Jane to her line of sight. "Between us, the snow just came down so thick he was hidden."

Jane nodded and got down on her hands and knees, brushing the snow away to free the dark body that was Loki from the drift he was submerged in. She shook his shoulders. "Loki! Loki, wake up!"

"I think he passed out! We must have come out of it early; we should be right in the middle of the city."

"That would explain the rough landing." Jane looked to the horizon all around them. "We might be in the city. I can't see far enough to tell where we are." She shuddered, crossing her arms. "We need to find shelter. We can't stay out here much longer; we'll freeze to death with this blizzard."

Darcy squinted into the distance. She pointed, tapping Jane on the shoulder. "There! About a hundred feet away! It looks like an overhang or cave of some sort."

"It'll work!" Jane said. She tugged at Loki's arms fruitlessly. "He's not waking up. We'll need to drag him with us."

"Are you insane? Even if he were a normal guy, he'd be almost two hundred pounds."

"Do you have a better idea?"

Darcy sighed, her breath puffing out like smoke before her eyes. "Fine." She moved around to Loki's side. "I'll take his arms and shoulders. You pick him up by the legs."

Jane nodded and moved into position. She looked up at Darcy. "Are you ready?"

"On three!" Darcy cried over the gale. "One…two…three!"

She groaned as she staggered to her feet. _God damn! Is he made of lead or something? _

She stumbled backwards, laughing slightly out of sheer exhaustion. Jane met her eyes with a small smile of her own.

"I'll steer you!" she yelled. "Just keep walking backwards, and don't let go of him."

Darcy exhaled sharply through her teeth as she nodded. For being so compact, Loki really did seem to be made of lead. Either that or he was hiding an absurd amount of muscle somewhere on his relatively small frame.

Darcy tried not to give up and fall to her knees as she faltered backwards along Jane's path. Her arms were screaming at her to let go.

"Ah!" She slipped up. She almost let go of Loki.

Jane almost bumped into Darcy, forcing her to regain her hold on Loki, her hands skimming through his hair, down his back as she struggled to regain control, to hold on a moment longer.

"Sorry!" she yelled. "I tripped."

Jane seemed to be shaking from the effort. "Just keep moving. We're almost there…"

Slowly, they made their way through the snow…trudging, inches at a time…their footprints filling up with fresh slush almost as soon as they stomped it down.

* * *

><p>Darcy shivered, wringing her damp hair out to one side of the cave. Realizing she was not going to squeeze any more ice out of her hair, she turned to Jane with a crabby scowl.<p>

"What's taking so long with that fire?"

Jane glared at her. "The wood in my backpack got wet. The sparks are landing, but they don't want to burn."

"Ugh," Darcy groaned. "We should have brought Erik with us. He was, like, a Boy Scout."

"If we brought him," Jane said patiently, "you wouldn't be here."

Darcy grumbled. "Whatever. I'm going to curl up in a little ball now and try to sleep, because I, for one, am fucking _tired_." She glanced at Loki, who they had left sprawled on the ground near the mouth of the cave, unable to carry him another step. "Let me know when he gets up. Maybe he can make a fire."

"I'm waking you up in two hours regardless," Jane said. "I need to sleep too."

Darcy sighed as she stretched out on the floor, seeking a spot without stray pebbles or bumps. "We're stranded on Jotunheim, in a blizzard, miles from civilization, with no fire, no way of making food, and a comatose god on the floor." She grimaced. "Man, this is not how I imagined my first post-college road trip."

"Just shut up and go to sleep, Darcy."

She was snoring before Jane had finished telling her off.


	9. Sleep

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Hospital…nothing seriously wrong…pain…Long story short, I'm fine, but let's just say that emergency rooms don't have great internet access. **

**CHAPTER NINE**

When Loki awoke, he found himself staring at a wall of rock overhead: solid, uneven stone so hard that even the wind's banshee cry had an echo.

He frowned slightly as he forced himself to sit up. Why could he hear the wind howling? More importantly—_where was he_?

He turned to the left as an audible shiver resonated through the cave. Jane was curled up in a little ball next to a damp pile of twigs and logs in the center of the cave, her eyes gazing without seeing into space.

Loki reached his hands towards the low ceiling, arching his back in a stretch. "It works better when it's lit, you know."

Jane jerked as though abruptly leaving a daydream. She rubbed her eyes with a yawn as she turned to him.

"Sorry. I started dozing." She grimaced, glancing between Loki and the pile of twigs apologetically. "I, uh, tried starting the fire. The snow got it all wet."

"Ah. I take it we landed safely in Jotunheim, then?"

"More or less. I have no idea where we are, but…We're in one piece. I'm not complaining." She gave him the sort of look he imagined was usually reserved for a specimen under a microscope. "What happened in travel? You weren't supposed to black out."

"It seems I underestimated how much damage the shard did to my magic. I was unable to anesthetize myself and travel simultaneously."

His answer satisfied Jane. She squinted at him hesitantly. "Do you have enough magic to light the fire?"

Loki flicked his wrist lazily in the direction of the tinder. Tangerine tongues of flame promptly burst out of the woodpile, casting wild shadows across the cave walls.

Jane smiled politely. "Thank you," she said stiffly.

They listened to the fire crackle for a moment without speaking, savoring the warm haven from the cold. Jane got up after a minute.

"I should wake Darcy. She has next watch."

"Don't bother," Loki muttered. "She's resting. I don't want to have to carry her tomorrow. I've slept enough. You mortals are the ones in need of a respite."

Jane stared at him for a second, and then shrugged. "Your call," she said. "I don't care as long as someone keeps watch while I'm asleep." She yawned. "Goodnight."

"I shall wake you both shortly after sunrise."

She babbled something that might have been a reply. Loki started to ask her to repeat herself, but she was already falling asleep.

He studied her body language carefully. Here was an opportunity he could not afford to miss: the opportunity to study his companions in an unguarded, completely vulnerable state. Jane's face lacked any surprises. Even in sleep she had a shrewd, intelligent, decidedly scientific look about her. Something in her eyes, her pursed lips, suggested perpetual hypothesis, as if she went through life like an experiment. Her posture, on the other hand, was fragile, childlike. She seemed to be reaching out for something, her arms restlessly seeking a someone to hold on to in the night.

Loki grimaced. Jane really did seem to miss _him_. As arrogant, as foolhardy, as idiotically careless as Thor may have been, something about him must have been attractive to her…not just his stereotypical pretty-boy looks or his physique. Jane had loved Thor.

His stomach turned. Thor and love in the same sentence together…it was so wrong. How could anyone love him? He had been a monster, a raging animal, so blind to his own faults that he didn't even strive to change them. Yet somehow, everyone adored him, worshipped the ground he walked upon.

Even Jane: astute, scientific Jane.

Perhaps Thor was not the monster he had seemed to Loki. Maybe he had his reasons…just as Loki had possessed a rationale for his crimes.

He shook the thought away as if it were an errant fly. It was not himself or Thor he was studying right now. It was the women he was traveling with he needed to scrutinize.

He forced himself to look away from Jane, to turn away from his roiling thoughts. He stared at Darcy, forcing himself to detach his emotions, his hate. He needed to think with thought alone, not his impulses or emotional whims.

He looked intently at Darcy's face as he had Jane's, analyzing it. His thoughts seemed to come to a standstill, all at once dedicated solely to what he was seeing.

Darcy was smiling in her sleep. Not the benign, angelic, idiotic smile that most people had when they dreamed. It was not even a true smile upon her lips—they merely quirked to one side as if she were debating whether to laugh at something or not. She was...Loki wasn't quite sure what the correct word was. Not smirking; it was too good-natured for that. But it was not grinning either. She didn't look euphoric; she merely seemed amused by something.

The only comparison that came to mind was a picture of Midgard he had once seen, a portrait of an Italian woman in their Renaissance Era. The _Mona Lisa_, mortals called it. He had never understood their love for that picture. There really was nothing remarkable about the woman's face…come to think of it, she was rather homely.

Looking at Darcy's face, he began to understand the appeal. It was faintly magnetic, a snake hypnotizing its prey, begging the viewer to tilt their head this way and that in a vain effort to divine what the bloody woman was smiling at.

It was maddening. He couldn't look away.

Really, he mused, Darcy wasn't that much prettier than the Italian woman. She had nice cheekbones…and her skin was even…and her lips were full…and her hair was dark and shiny, and it looked soft to the touch. She had lashes that Freya would envy. And her eyes were the most intriguing shade of…

_Her teeth_, the little voice in his mind nagged. _Her smile is crooked. And she is no Amazon. She lacks muscle. She is not thin or tall or athletic like the woman you usually find beautiful. She is weak and soft and…_

Soft didn't sound unappealing at all. At the present, it sounded quite nice, actually. Who wanted to have something thin and bony bumping up against you when you're trying to have…

Loki closed his eyes. The medicine the mortals had given him was doing very strange things to his head. Irrational, counterproductive things.

He looked into the fire when he opened his eyes and stared into the heart of the blaze. He watched the flames fly erratically from the tinder, dancing without rhyme or reason, fracturing as they hit the sky. Amidst the golden hues, a shot of blue shone out from the heart of the inferno, shifting restlessly between near-white and the color of an ocean at night faster than the blink of an eye.

With a sigh, Loki rose to his feet and strode to the mouth of the cave. It was going to be a long night. He might as well calculate how far they had to travel.

* * *

><p>"Darcy."<p>

She smiled vacantly at the voice. It was all smooth and British and serious. "Five more minutes," she murmured.

"The sun rose half an hour ago. At least, it should have. I think there's a sun in Jotunheim's planetary system."

Darcy opened her eyes. She realized all at once how cold it was.

"There has to be," Jane said from across the room. Darcy gave her a confused look. "A sun," she clarified. "No star, no planets. It must be very cold, though. Maybe dead, a brown dwarf. Couldn't be much warmer than a red giant."

"Reasonable possibilities to be certain," Loki said, "but irrelevant. It seems that the clouds are too thick for its sun to fully penetrate. We cannot rely on any warmth while we are here."

"How can we breathe?" Darcy muttered. Her brain was beginning to operate for the day. "I thought planets with clouds like that were toxic and crap."

"Planets that Midgard's scientists know of," Loki reminded her. "Obviously, your people were missing some key facts."

"What I would give for some astronomical equipment right now," Jane sighed.

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for science on Asgard," he said dryly. "Right now, our priority is to move efficiently and safely. Gather your things. We shall depart shortly."

The two women looked at each other, equally wistful for the science they were missing and eager to be on the move.

"He's right," Jane said. "I can do science later."

"I'm starting to think he was a Boy Scout in a past life."

Jane stared at Darcy for a second and moved away to pack her things. Darcy looked defensive.

"Oh, come on! Can't you see him in the little khaki shirt and shorts? With, like, knee socks and a neckerchief and fifty million merit badges all over the place?"

"No, I can't. And I don't think you can either. I'm guessing your mental images of Loki don't usually involve quite that much clothing."

Darcy shrugged. "You got me there." She paused, smiling. "Hey, what about Thor as a Boy Scout? But, like, without a shirt. Just the sash and…"

"Darcy!"

"Right," she said sheepishly.

* * *

><p><em>Jeg har hatt<em>_en drøm__, forbi __vidd__av__mannen å__si hva__drømmen__det__var:__mannen er__, men __et esel__, __hvis han__går om__å utlegge denne__drømmen.__Jeg syntes__jeg__var -__det er ingen__mann__kan fortelle__hva.__Jeg syntes__jeg__var__. __Og__jeg syntes__jeg__hadde__. __Men mennesket__er__, men __en oppdatert__dum,__hvis han__vil tilby__å si hva__jeg syntes__jeg hadde..._

"How much farther do we have to walk?"

Loki turned to squint at the women trailing behind him, their voices faint in the wailing wind.

"Not long. We shall search for a cave after we have walked another half mile."

He faced into the gale again, screwing his eyes up against the ice pounding against his face.

_Øyet__av mennesket__har__ikke hørt__, __øret__av mennesket__har__ikke sett__, __er menneskets__hånd ikke__i stand til å__smake__, __tungen__å unnfange__..._

"God, this is boring. I wish I had my iPod."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Try translating a poem," he yelled. "It passes the time."

_...__eller hans__hjerte__å rapportere__, hva __drømmen min__var..._

"I only speak English. And I don't have any poems memorized."

"It's not my job to entertain you, mortal," he snapped. "_Make up_ a poem if you're so bored."

_Damn. I lost my place. Now I have to start from the top of the monologue._ Loki racked his memory, searching for the opening line of the speech to begin anew his translation.

"Roses are red…violets are blue…"

"What are you babbling about now?"

"I remembered a poem! I'm reciting it!"

"I said you should think of a poem, not say it out loud! Unless your goal was to make me die of horror at the state Midgardian literature has sunk to since my last visit, please, be quiet!"

Darcy fell silent. Loki was once again free to listen to the wind crying and translate his literature in peace to pass the time until they reached their destination.

"Snow is white…Loki's eyes are green…He's kind of an asshole…and definitely mean."

He groaned. _Last time I give a mortal something to do, _he thought to himself.


	10. Cold

**CHAPTER TEN**

"Ah. Here we are."

"Where?" Jane shouted.

"There's a cave up ahead—maybe fifty paces away, slightly off to the right side of the path."

"Fifty tall-god paces or fifty tiny-midget-human paces?"

Loki bit back the sarcastic reply on his tongue. "Just follow me," he said. He began to walk faster as he approached the mouth of the cave, wading through the thicker snow fallen from the overhang.

"How did pirates _do _it without Google Maps? 'Fifty paces…' Seriously."

Loki ignored her rambling and chose to devote his energies to climbing up the hill to the cave. When he reached the crest, he looked around. The hill's height would have provided them with an excellent vantage point but for the incessant snowfall. As it was, even he with his above-average senses could scarcely see more than a stone's throw from the mouth of the cave.

He paused. _A stone's throw?_ Darcy had a point; Asgardian measurements were somewhat unreliable. Damn. He hated being bested by mortals.

He glanced around as he entered the cave, scanning it for hazards or alternate points of entry. There were none that he could see—then again, that was not saying very much. The cavern was huge. He estimated that it could comfortably house twelve Asgardian warriors without crowding.

Jane, seconds behind him, set her bag down with an audible thump. The noise bounced around in the air for several seconds, finally falling silent somewhere in a deeper part of the cavern that lay invisible in the shadows.

"Big cave," she said flatly. "I wonder what formed it."

"Are there bears on Jotunheim? Because I'm getting a bear-cave vibe from this place."

"Huge bears," Loki said solemnly. "_Frost giant_ bears."

"With laser eyes?"

She had called his bluff. He smiled crookedly. "Yes, something like that."

"Will you two quit talking about hypothetical bears and help me set up?"

"Right," Loki said, privately glad for the distraction. He enjoyed teasing Darcy far more than he should. He was paying entirely too much attention to the girl.

"What is there to set up?" Darcy asked. "It's not like we have tents or anything."

"We need water and a fire to cook. I'll set up the wood. Loki can start the fire. Here." Jane handed her a small metal pot. "You can fetch some snow. It's water-based, so we can melt it and use it normally."

"From outside?"

"That's where most of the snow is," Jane said.

"It's cold!"

"Do you want food or not?" Jane asked exasperatedly.

Darcy fake-pouted, sighing. "Fine." And she stomped out of the cave, partly to loose the ice clinging to her boots, but mostly (Loki imagined) for dramatic impact.

Loki eyed Jane warily as she arranged the wood into a fireworthy shape. "You two will have to cook. I'm unfamiliar with your dried food."

"That'll be Darcy's job," Jane said. "She's the queen of ramen."

Loki stared at her blankly.

"Ramen," she repeated. "You know: noodles?" She gestured, gaping at him. "Strings of starch soaked in water. You mean you don't even have pasta on Asgard?"

"Apparently not." He flicked his fingers at the makeshift hearth. On cue, flames burst into life, consuming the wood. He picked up a package of the dried 'noodles'—he assumed that's what they were—gingerly with the tips of his fingers. He wrinkled his nose. "Are you sure this is edible?"

"I'm not fond of it," she conceded. "But it's fit for human consumption. And, presumably, god consumption."

Loki grimaced, setting the package back down on the floor. "I certainly hope you mortals know what you're talking about."

* * *

><p>Loki got through the meal without gagging or choking on the food. Actually—though he would never admit it to the mortals—he found it more than tolerable as far as travel food went.<p>

At the very least, it provided much-needed sustenance for the trio, and Loki was begrudgingly thankful for that.

Jane stretched her arms out towards the ceiling as her companions drained the dregs of the soup cup. "Well," she said, "I took two hours watch last night, so Darcy should take a shift this evening. Unless you need more sleep—" she glanced at Loki—"I think that means I'm off the hook tonight."

He nodded. "I do not require much sleep at all by your standards," he said. "Three hours should more than suffice."

"Good," Jane said. "Then you can take watch until you get tired, and Darcy will cover you until sunrise…or when our Earth sleeping patterns say sunrise should be; I haven't seen daylight the entire time we've been here."

"Wish I'd brought coffee with me," Darcy muttered.

Jane didn't say anything to that. She rose to her feet stiffly and arched her back with a yawn. "I'll take the spot by the wall in the light," she said, already halfway across the cave."

"Guess that leaves me the shadows," Darcy said bleakly.

The two women settled in for the night, arranging their knapsacks as pillows the best they could and peeling off their jackets to use for blankets.

Loki found himself a semi-comfortable spot without too many ridges or pebbles to sit upon. Soon, Jane's goodnights turned to breathing that eventually grew slow and even.

He let his mind wander as he sat there, staring into the fire, listening to the quiet sleeping noises echo through the cave. It wandered to Midgardian literature, his translations earlier as he had led the others trekking through the snow. It wandered to Darcy's terrible poem that scarcely deserved the designation "poem."

_Darcy…poem…_He could have, he supposed, improvised a come-back poem to persuade her to remain silent for the duration of their journey, but he couldn't think of anything that rhymed with "Darcy." For that matter, why did he even consider the possibility of a comeback—such a juvenile idea—for her silly little poem?

Most importantly, why did he feel as if some part of him didn't really want Darcy to be quiet? Was he really so bored as to need whatever entertainment her insipid commentary might provide?

It wasn't insipid, he chided himself. Darcy could be somewhat shallow at times, and her thoughts did seem rather meandering in contrast to his organized mind, but when it came down to it, she was quite perceptive in her own way. Occasionally, her comments were almost (Loki hated to admit it) _clever_. No, he told himself hurriedly. Clever was a stretch. Nothing he had heard her say was truly inspired. Amusing was the word he was searching for. Darcy could be funny when she wanted. Smart…well; he would believe it when he saw it.

He realized, after a brief second of blinking vacantly into space, why he felt so strange: he had been staring for the last minute at the subject of his thoughts. Even more uncomfortable, she was staring right back, no expression in her wide blue eyes.

He started abruptly and turned his gaze to the shadows on the wall for a brief second. But he found himself resisting the urge to look fleetingly in her direction the moment he turned away.

Finally, he gave into the impulse and stared into the shadows. Her eyes were still fixed on him. He wasn't quite sure how he could see them—she was in the shadows after all—but somehow they were visible even in the darkness, perhaps some radiant light reaching into the dim side of the cave and reflecting off of her irises like a mirror.

"You should be sleeping," he murmured sternly.

"Can't sleep," she said. The fatigue made her voice softer, higher. "I'm cold."

Loki pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Why didn't you wear a different jacket?"

"You weren't at the store," she said, smiling. "I looked like a big, blue marshmallow wearing those coats."

"Yes." He found his mouth involuntarily mirroring her smile. "But you would have been a _comfortable_ marshmallow."

Darcy laughed quietly. Her giggle turned into a shiver, a frail little shuddering noise that reached into the corners of the cave. She looked up at him as her shaking subsided. She seemed hesitant to ask a question.

"You wouldn't let a spark catch on my clothing if I slept closer to the fire?" she asked.

He gave her a strange look. "Why would I do that?"

She shrugged. "For the hell of it."

He grimaced. "Yes, but just because I _can_ do something doesn't mean I will. Not always, anyway. Letting you catch fire would be entirely counterproductive. Jane would be furious. I'd never get the mortal blood I need. I'd die." He frowned. "It is rather small on this side of the cave, though. It would be crowded."

"Fine," she muttered, getting up quietly. "More body heat."

Loki debated for a moment suggesting an activity that would generate _lots_ of body heat, but decided it was too late for such a comment to be taken as intended: a joke. It was a joke, after all…nothing more.

He was surprised to find Darcy taking a seat right beside him. He looked at her curiously.

"I'm not going to go lie down next to Jane. She _snuggles_ in her sleep." Darcy mock-shuddered in horror. Her fakery quickly turned to a true tremor through her body, rebelling against the cold.

Loki mentally sighed. She would never get any sleep this way. And then he'd have to deal with _tired_ mortals in the morning. With a wave of his hand, he produced a thick woolen cloak and draped it over her shoulders.

She immediately burrowed into its warmth, trying to envelope herself in the cloak. She looked up at him, just a little brunette head poking out of the dark wool. "Not complaining, but I thought you could only do magic on yourself."

"I am," he said simply. He moved his arm around to illustrate, brushing their shoulders together. "You're in contact with me. That makes you an extension of my body, for the purposes of magic. It's why I insist that you and Jane hold on to me when I am travelling. It is far less demanding."

"So as long as I'm touching you, you can keep this cloak on me?"

"That is correct."

She nodded, eyes wide. "Cool."

Loki wasn't sure if it was merely his imagination now that he had called attention to the fact that he was touching Darcy or if she actually moved closer to him in response to his remark, but it felt as if she were leaning against him with her whole side, just an inch too short to comfortably rest her head on his shoulder. He wasn't protesting. It made the magic much easier if she were truly touching him instead of just brushing the tips of their shoulders together.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, to the point where Loki thought she was asleep. He jumped when a small laugh rang through the cave.

"What?" he said absently.

She smiled, trying to contain her giggles. "Nothing. This cloak is so warm…it's just reminding me of my old electric blanket. My friends broke it doing this dumb prank on our R.A. A couple of them almost got electrocuted."

Loki smiled crookedly. "I'm always eager to hear a good scheme," he said lightly. "What was it?"

"It was completely stupid," she said. "We were trying to get the R.A. fired. She was a total bitch. Like, not just getting upset about parties, but she was throwing a hissy fit whenever people played music after 10 pm, you know, studying and stuff…and this one time, she refused to let me in because I didn't have my ID card with me, even though it was only midnight."

He raised his eyebrow, curious to hear the end of this tale. "What did you do to her?"

"We, uh," Darcy laughed, "we started spreading rumors that our residence hall was haunted. A couple of us started making up stories about stuff moving in our rooms, freaking out about things touching us, you know, _Crucible_-status. One of the guys had this bright idea to make the plumbing freak out, so he tinkered with the pipes a bit and the faucets kept running and flooding this one bathroom…"

"Setting the scene?"

"Yeah, exactly," she said, nodding. "We got the other floors to co-operate too. They started complaining about hearing noises from our level at night. She didn't buy it. She said she didn't believe in ghosts. So, we," Darcy bit her lip to keep from smiling too widely, "we played the prank."

"What was the prank, exactly?"

"It was winter, right? We had this field right outside, most of the windows had a good view of it. It was just this blanket of snow. So one night, we snuck out, and we brought my electric blanket, and we _melted_ the snow in view from her dorm so it formed the words 'I AM REAL.' The water and the electricity didn't want to mix, so that's where the electrocution almost happened…but we finished the prank. And…" Darcy dissolved into giggles. "And the next morning, we looked outside and screamed, and we called the R.A. over and we realized…we had spelled 'real' wrong. We put the 'a' before the 'e' by mistake in all the chaos."

Loki stared at her for a second, then let out a stifled laugh.

Darcy's hysteria seemed to be fueled by Loki's amusement. "We told her it was a dyslexic ghost. She didn't believe us, but…man, you should have seen her face when she figured out it was us."

Her laughter slowly died down. Eventually, Loki stopped shaking with chuckles too. He noticed distantly that he didn't really think the prank was that funny, but her laughter was infectious. He had difficulty getting rid of his smile—whenever he forced the corners of his lips to turn down, the corners of his eyes rebelled and kept smiling. It should have been aggravating, but strangely, he found he didn't really want to stop smiling. It was quite pleasant, letting himself enjoy the impulse to share an amusing moment, to look at an endearing facial expression and mirror it himself.

They fell silent after that, listening in peace to the fire crackling and the sound of Jane occasionally mumbling something incoherent in her sleep.

"You've probably done better," Darcy said after a few minutes.

He grimaced wryly. "God of mischief. It comes with the territory, so to speak."

"Anything good?"

He considered for a moment that it was probably not necessary to reveal so much about his past to a mere mortal…but what could the harm be? If it filled the silence, provided him with some entertainment…

"Well," he began, "I did visit the United States once in the mid-20th century…"

* * *

><p>"…and since then, elaborate and unconventional pranks have been a tradition, a part of the school's heritage."<p>

Loki was surprised by the silence. He hadn't been expecting uproarious laughter…but he was a bit stunned to not get a single giggle out of Darcy. He glanced down at her.

She was asleep on his arm.

He sighed. _That would explain it._

What he couldn't explain was why he kept looking at her once he gathered that she was asleep. He had already had a chance to study her. He had obtained the information he needed from that observation session…so why was he still looking at her?

What purpose did it serve to notice that her eyelashes were brushing the tops of her cheekbones gently, or that her hair was falling in her face and that she would probably like it to be tucked behind her ear? For that matter, what did he benefit from letting her sleep on his shoulder, from warming her with magic? Why was he draining himself un-necessarily? She was tired, she would have fallen asleep regardless of the cold.

Why was he turning so soft?

He closed his eyes and turned his face to the ceiling wearily. He had once berated his brother for becoming weak, for acknowledging his attraction to a simple, mortal woman. Yet here he was, warming a human girl with his magic, allowing her to use him as a pillow, resisting the urge to put an arm around her—so she didn't fall over, not because he felt like holding her.

Was he any better than Thor?

He had the strangest feeling in his heart as he leaned his chin upon Darcy's head, close enough to smell her perfume, that he didn't really give a damn what his brother had done. He liked this. He loved…

He sat up sharply, causing Darcy's eyelashes to flutter intriguingly as she darted between sleep and wakefulness. He watched without thinking to make sure that she did not rouse…and then resumed rebuking himself.

_No_, he said. _You do not love anyone. Why should you bother with such a counterproductive emotion? All it does is make things muddy, make decisions hard to make. And why should you devote your heart to another when she does not return your affections? She finds you attractive_, the little voice in the back of his head continued. _But she thought Thor was good-looking too. You are nothing to her. To her knowledge, you are a monster, a villain, and she may be right. You are not someone that she deserves._

He paused in his internal dialogue. Had he really just acknowledged that she, a mortal, deserved to be treated well, to be loved by someone who wasn't a monster? Why had he done that?

The nay-saying voice in his mind had no answer.

Loki groaned under his breath and resolved to cease such circular reasoning. He would not pursue Darcy because it was counterproductive. It served no practical purpose. It would only get in his way. But for right now, he needed to warm her so she could be well-rested. The faster they reached Jotunheim, the faster he could complete the Thrice Blood spell.

The sooner he would be rid of her.

He stared into the fire, as if hoping that the inferno would burn away the ache that ensued from his thoughts.


	11. Destiny

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

The three set out into the snow the next day optimistically, feeling warm and well-rested, their nagging hunger from the past day sated. Their outlook quickly dissipated as the hours went on, the snow stubbornly continuing to fall faster than their footprints could leave their mark in the path. Even Loki's scattershot attempts at melting the snow before them with magic were fruitless. It seemed not to matter how fast they pressed or thawed the snow out of their way: the blizzard raged on.

Loki screwed his eyes nearly shut against the sleet battering his face and let his breath out in a short puff. He watched the condensation linger in the air for a split second before the gale carried it away into the whiteout. He shivered. It was bitterly cold, even he could feel it. His nose and fingertips tingled with the beginnings of numbness, shutting down in rebellion.

"Loki!" Jane's voice—in all likelihood, no more than ten feet away—seemed to come to him from a great distance. The sound practically drowned in the low howling of the wind.

He turned to look at her; perhaps reading her face would make the hearing simpler.

"We have to find shelter," she yelled at him. "There's no use in trying to fight through this blizzard, I can barely see my hand in front of my face."

He suppressed a shudder as the cold wind plastered his coat to his back. "Just a few more miles," he shouted. "We need to keep moving if our rations are to hold out till we reach a city."

"At this rate, we won't need rations! We'll be frozen to death within the hour!"

Loki pursed his lips. Killing the mortals _would_ be counterproductive. He realized that Darcy hadn't said anything snarky since they began walking in the morning and turned to ask for her vote.

"What about you?" he said. "Could you make it a mile or two more?"

She gave a visible shudder, her teeth chattering. Loki saw with a start that her cheeks were practically scarlet against her pale skin. Her lips, on the other hand, were missing their pink hue; they were slowly blending in to the rest of her skin and turning faintly blue.

"I'll be okay," she said. Her words were muffled as she buried her face in her scarf. As Loki watched, her features vanished into the fabric until she was nothing but a pair of eyes staring back at him, snowflakes refusing to melt from her eyelashes. Loki grimaced. Even though he could scarcely hear her over the storm, he was able to detect the quiver in her voice.

"You're right," he called to Jane. "It's too risky. I'm not familiar enough with human physiology to tell when you are becoming sick from the cold. We will stop for shelter." He turned around in a small circle, searching for any break in the canvas of white, some indication that there was a cave nearby.

Just when he was about to give up hope and instruct them to dig a shelter in the snow itself, he saw it: a flash of blue on the horizon, a few yards away.

He pointed at it. "There!" he said, tapping Jane on the shoulder.

She squinted. "That doesn't look like a cave," she yelled. "It's too bright."

"Do you want to take shelter or not?"

She glared at him for a moment. She sighed reluctantly and began trudging through the snow towards their destination.

* * *

><p>Loki's eyes widened as he came to the cave.<p>

It was enormous, stretching back and branching out farther than he could see—and all of the walls were glowing as if lit from within by some bright cerulean fire.

He turned on the spot, eyes roving the cavern walls intensely, feasting upon the majesty of what he was seeing.

"What is this place?" Jane asked breathlessly as she set her bag down with a muffled noise.

"I don't know," said Loki. "Some sort of geological anomaly, perhaps." He peered closer at the wall closest to him; he realized with a start that the whole cave was riddled with tiny etchings. "It appears this grotto was inhabited before. I can't read it, but these cracks in the wall seem to be inscriptions, some early hieroglyphic form of writing."

Darcy came up beside him and squinted over his shoulder. "Yeah," she said absently. "It does look like writing of some sort." She brushed her fingertip along the ridges. Loki followed its path curiously. She tapped one of the characters after a second of roaming the wall. "This symbol is repeated," she said. "A few times, actually. It must be a letter or a common word in their language. Maybe I can figure it out…hieroglyphics are usually just really mutant pictures of things."

"You do that," he murmured. He turned to Jane, who had begun bustling around the entrance of the cave setting up for the night. "How much food is left?"

"Enough," she said briefly. "Assuming we aren't delayed any further."

He nodded. "No more unscheduled stops, then." He lit the fire without asking; he had grown used to the routine. He glanced at Darcy and found her still intently studying the writing on the wall. "We need water, I assume."

Jane nodded. "A few handfuls of snow should do it."

"I'll fetch extra," he said. "I didn't think of it before, but you've been exerting yourselves by trekking through this blizzard. You need to rehydrate, as do I.

He ducked out of the cave without further comment. He didn't care to answer to the questions Jane was sure to ask about his behavior. He was being far too open with these mortals. He needed to stop.

* * *

><p><em>Squiggly…stripe…box-type thing…pointy-box-three-triangle-thing…<em>

Darcy frowned, moving closer to the wall. "Jane, take a look at this…"

Jane stepped over to stand behind her. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" she asked.

"Is it just me, or does that pointy thing look like a crown to you?"

Jane wrinkled her nose. "Maybe?" she said hesitantly. "It might be. I don't know if I'd look at it and immediately think 'crown,' but it could pass for one."

"Pass for what?"

Darcy craned her neck. Loki was standing at the mouth of the cave looking rumpled with a heaping pot full of snow. She jerked her head at the cave wall. "It's one of the symbols," she said. "I think it looks like a crown.

His eyes narrowed; in the light, they seemed to be steely gray instead of green. She could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. "A crown?" he repeated skeptically.

She nodded. "It's like a box with three little triangles sticking out the top." She gestured with her finger as if to draw the figure in mid-air.

Loki set the pot down beside the fire and glided across the cavern to examine the wall. Darcy stepped out of the way as he drew near to allow him a closer look at the inscription.

He frowned. "You may be right," he muttered. "It's hard to make out, but…" He rubbed the mark absently with his fingertips, brushing away the ice and dirt in the crevasses of the text.

Jane gasped. "Oh my God…"

Darcy turned to look at her. In her peripheral vision, she glimpsed something and suddenly realized that it was Loki she should be staring at. She stifled a yell.

"Holy…" she sputtered incoherently. "What the hell is going on?"

Loki froze. He didn't reply for a very long time. He just stared back at her like a deer in the headlights, his eyes shockingly scarlet against his bright blue skin.

"I can explain," he said in a low voice.

* * *

><p>"You're a Frost Giant?"<p>

Loki pressed his lips together in a thin line. _This was not part of the plan._ He glanced between Jane and Darcy pleadingly, hoping that they might feel pity for him and not pursue the matter too harshly.

Jane might fall for the big, green eyes. She looked confused and worried, not angry. But Darcy…

Loki was taken aback by the sudden chill in her gaze. She didn't look her usual bubbly self. Something about her posture changed all at once. He knew that stance. He had seen it in Thor almost every day. He had seen it in Sif when one of the other warriors made one too many jokes about women. She was on the attack.

"I think the politically correct term is Jotun-Asgardian," Darcy said scathingly. "Isn't that right, Loki? Or is that even your real name?"

He swallowed, mentally calculating his options.

_Lie. You can tell them you are shapeshifting, that this is all just a joke. _

_No, they know I can't. My magic is too weak._

_Then tell them you are as confused as they are. Act like this development is news to you as much as it is to them. _

But Loki's expression had already given him away. He wore not the face of a man fallen victim to some strange magic—his face was that of a thief caught in the act, a child with his hand in the cookie jar.

His mischief mantra began to kick in. _Keep the lie simple. The less complicated, the less chance there is for them to find holes in it. _

_What could be more uncomplicated than the truth?_

"I am not in disguise," he said quietly. "I am who I have said that I am. I am Loki, son…" His voice broke. "Son of Laufey," he finished in a low voice.

"Laufey?" Jane asked in a whisper. "No, that can't be right. You're Thor's brother. He told me stories, you grew up with him. You…"

Something in Loki's chest twisted uncomfortably. _Thor had told stories about him?_

"No," he interrupted her. "I was stolen from Jotunheim as a baby. I grew up believing that I was Thor's brother." His face darkened. "Until our battle, that is."

He glanced at his hands, and was relieved to find them turning back to their usual pale state. He looked up at the woman with a sigh, and continued.

"A jotun caught me by the hand in that fight. I should have frozen into a block of ice, or at least lost my hand temporarily. Instead," he said, "_this_ happened."

"Why aren't you a Frost Giant all the time, then?" Jane asked. "How do you appear to be a god in your natural state…do you have to shapeshift?"

"No…" Loki paused. "I don't know. All I know is that I seem to be, for all intensive purposes, a god. I become a frost giant when I am in contact with any artifact or person containing jotun magic. Once contact is broken, I revert to my god form, unless I shapeshift to maintain the appearance of a Frost Giant."

Jane kept shaking her head, trying to make sense of this new information. Darcy just stared at him emotionlessly. Her face didn't move, didn't flinch. She just stood there with her blue eyes fixed on his face.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked.

"I didn't think it was necessary," he murmured.

"You lied," she said coldly, her voice rising. "You deliberately didn't tell us something important about yourself. I thought…" She trailed off, the brief spark of feeling in her eyes fading away as she realized where she was. She sighed and stared at her feet. "I'm going exploring in the tunnels," she said to Jane stiffly. "Let me know when dinner's on."

And she stormed off, leaving Jane to prepare dinner and Loki to puzzle out why he felt so sick all of a sudden.

* * *

><p>Darcy didn't look up as a pair of light footsteps came down the passageway.<p>

"Darcy..."

She continued staring at the wall, pretending to read the inscriptions. "Leave me alone."

"Darcy, my omission was not meant to deceive or slight the two of you. It was merely..."

"Go away. Please."

Loki didn't try to continue his speech. He just stood beside her and stared at her profile silhouetted against the blue wall.

She tried to ignore him. But after several seconds, she found that it was very difficult to stare straight ahead when someone else was burning a hole in her cheek with their eyes. She turned to meet his gaze. Against her will, her glare softened slightly when she saw his eyes, pale olive and wide open, devoid of their usual mischief. He looked...honest.

"Why didn't you tell me-us?" she asked quietly. He began to speak, but Darcy cut him off. "And don't say that you didn't have to. You've told me things that I didn't need to know before. Why is this any different?" She was overcome with a sudden suspicion. Her heart sank. "Or were you lying all along? About your daughter, about the pranks, about everything?"

"I haven't yet lied to you," he said.

"Yet?" Darcy crossed her arms. "But it's on the agenda? You _will_ lie to me, you just haven't gotten around to it _yet_?"

"No—"

"So what are you going to lie to us about, then? Were you planning to betray us when we—"

"I have not and I will not ever lie to you!" he burst out. Darcy froze mid-syllable, stunned into silence by the abrupt change in his voice. This wasn't the Loki she had seen in the last week. There was no forethought, no composure to the man before her. This was raw and broken. This was...Darcy wasn't sure what it was. Hatred? Love? Whatever it was, it seemed to be consuming him from the inside, gnawing at his voice and his eyes.

He shook his head furiously and placed his fist against the wall. "Do you think that I chose to be a monster?" he said harshly. "Do you think that I wanted to be like this? A thief? A liar? A manipulator? The villain?" He let out a soft, mad laugh vacant of humor. "All I wanted was to be useful," he said in a low voice. "All I wanted was to have some grand destiny like my brother did. To be the hero. To be the one who changed the world."

His eyes flashed as he turned to stare at her once again. She backed away slightly. He seemed slightly demented. "I never _cared_ about fame! I never _cared_ about the women, or the crown, or any of those things." His voice cracked. He seemed to be coming down from his euphoric façade, falling back into his usual reserved temper. "I cared about my family," he said hoarsely. "I cared about my brother…my mother…my father…I loved them."

He leaned against the wall again, closing his eyes. His breathing hitched. "Yet nothing I ever did was ever good enough for them." He opened his eyes, his zeal abruptly mounting again. He glared at the gleaming wall as if trying to shatter it with a look. "Nobody ever pulled me aside to tell me how well I had done in the battle, protecting the others from hidden foes they failed to notice. Nobody ever praised me for my spells, for my magic. _Nobody saw me_!" His voice shook. "They feared me. They all knew, long before I did…"

"They knew that you were a frost giant and they didn't tell you?" Darcy asked. She was almost surprised at the sound of her own voice: too soft, too high in the hallway resonating with Loki's furious tenor.

He gave a hollow chuckle. "Frost giant," he scoffed. "No, they never knew that I was the monster their children searched for under their beds before they went to sleep at night. Not consciously. But they always knew, somehow, in their hearts, that I was the one to be afraid of. That I was something to be hated…to be alienated."

He glanced at Darcy. "I always wanted a destiny. It just wasn't the one I wanted." His eyes seemed to be peering right into her core as he spoke now. She couldn't even begin to formulate a question. He was giving her all the answers without speaking, just by looking at her. "I am the Destroyer," he said quietly. "I am the one who will bring about Ragnarok, the end of time, for the entire universe. That is my fate. I am destined to obliterate everything that I once held dear. My home, my family, Asgard…And not just the people and places I care about. I will destroy the whole universe. Every living being in every realm that has ever existed will die, because of me."

He looked down at the ground, the tension melting from his shoulders without warning. He seemed defeated. "That is why I did not tell you or Jane what I am," he said in a low tone. "Because to say that I am a frost giant would be a lie. It would not be the whole truth. There are not words for what I am…for what I am destined to become." He swallowed harshly. "I could not tell you. I can scarcely tell myself."

He turned away from her, gazing somewhere down the passageway into the dim glow of the deeper caverns. Darcy could swear she caught the glint of a tear on his cheek. "I do not want to be a villain. It is just my nature. It is who I am: the one to be feared."

Darcy felt like something in her ribcage was about to explode...his pain was overwhelming to be in contact with, even secondhand. She felt the impulse to make some sort of comforting gesture and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He began to shake it off, but stilled after a fraction of a second as he realized her intent.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said quietly.

He continued staring at the ground. "You should be."

Darcy stood there for a few minutes, leaving her hand on his shoulder, feeling the cold radiating through his clothing. Loki did not say anything more...but he did not tell her to leave.


	12. Bargain

**Author's Note: Here comes the fun part.**

No, not the romantic fluff. Be patient. I'm trying to keep that aspect in-character the best I can, and Loki doesn't strike me as the type to hurry along the make out sessions unless he has an ulterior motive. It'll come along eventually. Not yet.

**The 'fun' part I refer to is action. After all these angsty chapters, I'm going to wrap that segment up the best I can with a little more emotional content and move on to the PLOT motion. So pull out your Hans Zimmer soundtracks and find the edge of your seat. Or, you know, not. But if you want, feel free.**

**Also, kudos to reviewer MugglebornPrincesa for catching an error in the last chapter. I thought that phrase seemed wrong when I typed it…Anyway.**

**Moving right along…**

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Loki didn't speak at all during dinner. Darcy didn't force the issue, for which he was silently thankful. She went on as if nothing had happened—as if the two of them had not conversed since they left the previous shelter. She even made a valiant attempt at translating the writings on the walls, although Loki wasn't sure how much of this was based upon interest and how much was a vain attempt to distract Jane from his silence—or cheer _him_ into speaking with her more ridiculous efforts.

By the time the trio had finished dinner, however, Darcy seemed to realize that Loki really was not interested in talking. She made a show of going to bed early, sleeping farther back in one of the tunnels that branched off from the main room. The minute she had finished clearing up after the soup, she scurried off down a hallway to sleep on her own.

He was left alone with Jane.

She, too, seemed to understand that he was not inclined to speak, but she was less gentle about it than Darcy had been. Actually, she seemed somewhat irked by Loki's moping—not angry that he had lied, just annoyed by his present state.

After a few moments, she cleared her throat quietly.

"I heard what you said to Darcy," she admitted. "I tried not to listen, but it echoed a lot. It was hard _not_ to hear."

Loki glanced at her to acknowledge that he heard her and promptly continued staring at the fire.

Jane scowled. "Just because Norse mythology says something is true doesn't mean it is," she muttered. "I mean, the stories said that you gave birth to a horse. How crazy is…" She saw his face. "Oh," she said quietly, looking startled.

She seemed at a loss for words. Loki decided it was worth speaking to set this particular record straight. "I didn't _give birth_ to a horse," he said brusquely, "nor did I mate with one. I used magic to make the stallion believe it was having sex with the mare form I was inhabiting. The foal that resulted was a magical creation."

Jane nodded. "Ah. What about the other stories?"

He frowned. "Which ones?

Jane shrugged. "Sif's hair," she supplied hesitantly.

"Fact, but not by my hand."

"Sif and Thor."

"Fiction. But my moth—Frigga did always push that one."

"Hm." Jane's brow furrowed; she was obviously not happy with that idea. "Freya?"

"Fact. Generic, airheaded, vacant fact."

"You don't like her?"

Loki wrinkled his nose. "Not particularly. She's very pretty," he said hurriedly, "but…she's somewhat dim."

"Isn't that always how it works?" Jane said with a small smile. She stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully for an instant. "Balder's death?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering. "Half-truth." He grimaced. "And Sigyn is _not_ my wife."

"Also 'dim?'" Jane teased.

"No," he said, suppressing a shudder. "She's a perfectly fine woman, moderately smart and pretty. She's just obsessive. They say she's the goddess of loyalty…what a massive understatement. She took a fancy to me about a century in your time ago and started clumsily attempting to seduce me every chance she got. It took me decades to fend off her advances." He shook his head, trying to will the subject from his mind. "Next story," he said decisively.

"Ragnarok."

Loki turned to give Jane his fullest scowl. "If you're going to bring _that_ up—" he said warningly.

"I'm just saying…if half of these old stories are garbage, how do you know that this one is true?"

He sighed, his glare softening slightly. "I don't," he admitted. "But…" He shook his head. "Why bother getting my hopes up that I'm the good guy when the whole world so clearly believes I'm not?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Loki didn't have a reply for that. Honestly, he wasn't sure that right or wrong had anything to do with this. He had seen 'heroes' like his brother do terrible things, and he had seen villains who did good things to protect their own selfish ends.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was their intentions that made them heroes…even if the side effects of what the heroes did were often horrific, they tried. They fought for their homes, for the people they loved, for good over evil and they did it as honorably as they could.

His inner voice scoffed. These mortals were turning him soft, worse than they had done to Thor.

He didn't move when Jane rose to find a place to sleep. He just kept watching the cerulean heart of the flames turn to tangerine gold, wondering when he began caring so much about right and wrong.

* * *

><p>"When we reach the city, you mortals need to remain silent. I don't want any clumsy statements on your part ruining this negotiation. We are entering a very delicate situation, and it will take every ounce of wit that I have to ensure that this goes off without a hitch. Is that understood?"<p>

Jane nodded.

"Clear as vodka," Darcy said deadpan.

Loki turned around and continued his stride towards the city rising up before them. He shivered. It was not cold as it had been for most of their journey, nor was the snow coming down as hard or fast as it was before, but the presence of so many jotun made him feel slightly unwell…and cold. It was almost as if someone was doing magic on him…as if the jotun…

"Look who decided to slink back to Jotunheim."

_As if the jotun knew he was there._

He spun on his heel to face the speaker and found himself staring directly into the chest of a very tall, very ugly jotun guard. He looked up at the giant's face and put on his best charismatic smile.

"Ah, my kinsmen," he said brightly. "How kind of you! I was not expecting a welcome committee."

The jotun and his companions stared down at Loki angrily. The tallest one stooped over to speak more easily to him, his eyes flashing with scarlet fire.

"You are no brother of ours, traitor," he growled. Loki smoothed any sign of expression from his face. The giant seemed to interpret the change in his face as fear, and straightened up, satisfied. He glanced between the two women. "And who are these, brought into Jotunheim by the one who deserves no name? Warriors in disguise?" The giant leered, showing uneven, yellow teeth. "It is a very good disguise," he rumbled. "If any other than you had brought them here, I would have mistaken them for simple playthings." His eyes narrowed. "But we know your tricks, Laufeyson." He spat upon the ground and turned to his cohorts. "Take the mortals," he ordered them. His glare settled on Loki once again. "You are lucky that the General has commanded you be brought to him alive and unharmed. Else you would be dead where you stand, and I would be cursing your remains to be consumed by the dragon of Niflheim." He jerked his head at his comrades and strode towards the city.

Loki found himself compelled to stumble after the giant; he seemed bound around the ankles and wrists by some magic. He grimaced. This General had spared no magical talent amongst his soldiers to ensure that he came without a fight.

He glanced behind him at Jane and Darcy. Jane walked forth with her head held high, the only sign of fear in her body a slight shake in her hands and knees. Darcy, on the other hand, looked petrified. She wore a belligerent scowl on her face, but Loki knew her eyes well enough to recognize that she was scared. He gave her a vague half-smile. She returned it crookedly, her lip quivering. He noticed that her chin rose subtly, and her eyes seemed more resolved.

He turned around and followed after the giants calmly. He had this under control…this wasn't the plan, but he could make it work. He could make _anything_ work.

* * *

><p>After a long hour of trudging through thick snow, the motley convoy of prisoners and giants reached an enormous door of ice at the front of a building. Loki noted distantly that for a building of presumably civic-military purpose, the architecture was rather uninspired: it looked as if someone had broken off a hundred-foot-tall icicle and stuck it to the ground so it pointed upwards at the grey sky in a blue-white spire.<p>

One of the guards jabbed him in the back. "Enough sightseeing, Laufeyson," the guard said in a gravelly voice. He paused to spit upon the ground after Loki's name. "We can see to it that you are given a room with a view before your execution."

The other guards guffawed at their comrade's wit, creating a chorus of rumbling bass-lines that collided with each other and rattled in Loki's ribcage. He smiled sardonically. "We shall see," he said quietly.

He hissed quietly as the door swung open with a low rolling sound. The inside of the building was—he had hardly thought it possible—even colder than the outside was.

Jane seemed to share the same sentiment. Her teeth chattered together loudly as cold air rushed out of the open door. Darcy was not as audible, but her lips pressed together in what looked to be an uncomfortably thin line and her cheeks began to show small rosy patches.

The head of the guards shoved what looked to be the remains of a very furry animal at Darcy. She held it out at arms' length, puzzled.

"They are furs," the guard said. "You mortals seem to have a fragile constitution. We wouldn't want you freezing to death. After all, it is not you with whom we quarrel—and it would be a pity for such fair faces to go to waste."

Darcy grimaced slightly and wrinkled her nose. Jane tried to hand the furs back to the guard. "No, thank you," she said coolly.

The guard forced her arms down roughly and tossed one of the furs back to Darcy. "We insist," he said in an oily voice. "Unless—" he shot a taunting look at Loki "—you can think of another way to generate heat?" Loki glowered back at the guard. He laughed thunderously at Loki's discomfort and turned to eye Jane and Darcy as they reluctantly draped the furs over themselves.

Loki gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the guards' disgusting leers at the women as their group continued down the hallway. _Not worth a fight, not worth a fight, not worth a fight, _he told himself.

The guards' mockery of aura abruptly vanished as they reached another doorway, this one gilded with precious metals and rough-hewn jewels.

Loki closed his eyes as the door opened. He gathered his composure.

_Showtime._

* * *

><p>They were greeted by a chorus of jeers.<p>

"Loki Laufeyson!" bellowed a voice at the center of the hall. Loki opened his eyes to observe the speaker. Seated in an opulent throne of ice was a particularly huge frost giant, with skin that looked closer to dark gray than the usual shades of blue. His eyes, too, were unusual: they blazed orange with tiny gold flecks, like metal being forged in a fire, or the eerie gaze of an owl in the light. He did not, Loki noted regretfully, seem to be a stupid leader. It seemed that he had earned his title as General.

The General spat upon the ground as the prisoners drew near. Loki mentally rolled his eyes. Were they really going to do that every time they said his name?

"I cannot tell you how positively delighted I am to see you alive and well in my humble abode. After all," he said, rising to his feet and walking towards Loki with a saccharine smile upon his lips, "if you were already injured, I doubt that _this_ would have quite the same impact."

Before Loki could flinch, the General's arm shot out, casting a bolt of icy lightning to strike him squarely in the chest. He cried out in pain, the scar in his back blazing to life once again as his knees gave out and he tumbled to the ground.

The room reverberated with laughter. The General's booming laugh rang out over all the rest, his growling tone mocking Loki with every echo that whispered back to his ears.

He shuddered slightly, but rose to his knees and gave the General his best benevolent smile. "My lord," he said, trying desperately not to let any sarcasm slip into his address of the beast, "I am already injured. Indeed, it is this injury which brings me back to Jotunheim…although I daresay I might have returned on my own just to revisit your _delightful_ hospitality."

A hush fell over the court as every eye in the room turned to the forefront of the chamber. The General narrowed his eyes. "Injured?" he repeated, all taunt gone from his voice. "Why, then, have you come to us?" He smirked, an opportunity to mock presenting itself. "Were you hoping for a merciful release from your suffering?"

"I regret to disappoint you," Loki replied, "but no. It is something much easier to grant that I seek. And as an apology for my misguided prior actions," he continued, reaching into his coat pocket, "I present you with a token of my repentance."

He held out a small parcel in his hand for the General to examine. The giant took it suspiciously, throwing apart the fabric to reveal the contents of the package. He held it up for inspection: a tiny disc of transparent crystal rimmed with gold.

"It is an enchanted lens," Loki explained. "One may use it as you would an ordinary monocle, or it may be used to see great distances. To see beyond, all you must do is call it by name: 'Ysrad.'"

The General squinted at it a moment longer. Then, Loki's stomach fell: the General began to chortle.

"Oh, Laufeyson—" he gave the floor a perfunctory spit, "—you think that you can win the jotun race over with a simple trinket?"

Loki dared not reply. This was not the moment for razor-sharp answers. This was the time to allow rhetorical questioning to take its course.

The General shook his head. "No," he boomed. "This will not serve to repay your attempted slaughter of our people, regardless of how misguided you may have been. We do not forget, and we do not forgive. We simply make bargains." The General eyed the lens a moment longer. "This device may prove useful," he admitted. He glared at Loki darkly. "I shall, in return for this object, permit you to depart unscathed…this time. But your crimes against our world have not been undone."

Loki looked at the ground. He needed to think, but he needed to look like a dog with a tail between its legs at the same time. After a moment of pause, he turned to face the General once more.

"What would repay my crimes?" he asked.

The General smiled broadly. "Your death," he bellowed with relish.

Loki grimaced. "That was not exactly what I had in mind," he said flatly. "I was thinking something that is more within my power to give. Some item which might prove useful to your people…some service that you could use. I could, for instance, rebuild your cities even greater than they were before if you give me what I require to heal my injury fully."

The General's face turned sour. He stared at Loki with venom in his eyes. "Do you think this is about destruction?" he growled quietly. He pounded a fist against his throne; a corner snapped off with a crack that sounded like thunder. "Do you think that this is about loss of life?" he roared. "This is about honor! You, Laufeyson…" He did not even bother to spit; he seemed so enraged that such trivial matters were below his fury. "You betrayed our people! We do not take kindly to those who stab us in the back! You spat in our faces, and so we shall spit in yours! I am the General Orðin Leið! Whatever you cause me to suffer, I shall cause you to suffer a thousand times over, so that the fiery agony of the poison blood of Jormungandr could not compare!"

He quieted suddenly, seeming rather pleased with himself. "No, Laufeyson. There is no trinket you could give me that would repay your debt. Only your suffering would satisfy my tastes." His eyes lit up. "For instance...you could part with one of your lovely mortal companions. I imagine the suffering you would face at the hands of your Asgardians once they realize that you bargained with the life of a mortal as leverage would more than suffice."

He paused thoughtfully. "This is our bargain, Laufeyson. One of the women for what you require."


	13. Mistake

**Author's note: Hans Zimmer time, guys. Or James Newton Howard. Really, any action music would work. I was listening to a combination of Inception, Batman Begins, and Pirates of the Caribbean when I wrote this chapter.**

**Anywayyyy….**

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Loki clenched his fists subconsciously.

"I'm afraid I could not give her to you even if I wanted to," he said. "She is bound to another in heart and mind—even you must concede that her fate is out of my hands."

The General widened his eyes slightly, the cruel smile never leaving his face. "You are evading me, trickster. We know of the woman's bond to another. It is clear from her posture, the way she behaves around you. But the girl," he said with a leer, "is unattached to a mate. And she is so lovely," he said softly. He reached out and touched Darcy's cheek with the tips of his fingers, his filthy nails leaving faint pink tracks in their wake. Darcy looked as if she were about to vomit. "Such striking eyes," the General whispered. He turned to Loki, daring him to make a move. "Don't you agree," he asked silkily, "_Laufeyson_?" He spat on his boot disparagingly.

Loki felt a muscle working in his jaw as he fought against the impulse to strike the General dead. It was just what the bastard wanted him to do. He swallowed hard through the furious lump in his throat.

"Quite striking," he said blandly. He needed to see where the General was going with this. His stomach twinged pityingly for Darcy; her every feature was under scrutiny by a disgusting, cold frost giant who could crush her into dust with the slightest wrong move.

The General laughed at Loki's reply. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "I think the girl will do quite nicely. What do you say, Loki, son of Laufey?" The General extended a hand to him without spitting; he noticed with some disgust that the remnants of the General's last meal were still visible in between his teeth. "The girl to remain with me, in exchange for what you require and your return to Asgard unscathed?"

"I respectfully decline your offer," Loki replied coldly.

The General smiled once again. "Oh?" he said, feigning surprise. "And what is your objection? Do you indeed intend to die for your crimes? Are you so fond of this simple girl that you would not exchange her for your own life? Odd. I perceive that the two of you are not together in any sense of the term…"

Loki snapped. "Fondness has nothing to do with the matter," he hissed, stepping forward aggressively. "My objection is not personal. My objection is right and wrong. I have no _right_ to give her to you. She is not a thing. She is a person."

"Loki…" Darcy's voice seemed very soft in the room filled with rumbling bass tones and male voices. He turned to survey her, trying to communicate with his eyes alone. _Hush, Darcy, please, just this once, for your own sake. _She looked as if she understood his intent, but she pressed on anyway. "You have no right to give me away," she said quietly, "but I may choose to do whatever I wish." She stared at Loki intensely, almost as if _she_ were trying to say something silently.

He shook his head. "No. Absolutely not," he said firmly. _There has to be another way. _"We shall come to another agreement," he declared loudly to the room at large, trying frantically to make Darcy's voice seem small compared to his. _Stupid girl, being too beautiful for her own good. Stupid, stupid Loki, bringing innocent mortals into this matter. _

Darcy ignored Loki's pronouncement. "General," she said, her voice sounding fuller and more authoritative than it usually did. "If I stay here, will you and your people let my companions go without harming them, and give Loki what he requires to heal his injury?"

"No," Loki burst out.

"Yes." The General smirked at him. "Really, Laufeyson, I'm surprised. Your silver tongue is famed throughout the realms. Your talents as a wordsmith seem tarnished as of late." He turned to survey Darcy shrewdly. "Name your contract, mortal, and we shall shake upon it."

Darcy took a breath to steady herself. "You will give Loki a vial of jotun blood; he needs it to heal. You will let Loki and Jane return to Asgard unharmed and alive. In return, I promise on their behalf that they will not take a single hair from my head away from this realm."

The General nodded. "I agree to your terms," he growled. He held out a hand. "We bind our contract with a handshake."

Loki placed a restraining hand upon Darcy's wrist as she reached out to make her promise. "Darcy," he said warningly.

She turned to stare at him, her face expressionless. "Loki," she said. Her eyes flashed slightly—but this time, he had no idea what she was trying to say. They stared at each other for a second, waiting: for an epiphany, for their minds to suddenly become telepathically connected so they could understand what the other was playing at, for something to grasp at other than straws.

Darcy looked away first and turned to face the General directly. "I know what I'm doing," she muttered.

Loki's stomach twisted. _Don't do it, don't do it…_

He let go of her wrist.

Darcy shook the General's hand.

Loki closed his eyes, immediately regretting his decision. _What had he done?_

The General grinned at Darcy, but his eyes kept flitting to Loki wickedly. "We shall enjoy having such a lovely newcomer to entertain us."

Darcy, to her credit, did not shrink from the giant and his chuckling guards, but continued to stare straight ahead without blinking.

The General sat down in his chair heavily. "Hrodgæir," he shouted, "a vial and my silver dagger." A small frost giant with midnight blue skin hurried to the next room and returned moments later bearing a tiny crystal flask and a knife that, compared to the mortals, seemed more appropriate for butchering livestock than cutting a small vein. The General gruffly took the blade and laid it against one of his fingertips with a slight jab. Without so much as flinching, he let a small rivulet of his blood drip into the vial and set the 'dagger' on the arm of his throne.

Placing a small wooden stopper in the neck of the bottle, the General handed the flask to one of his guards, who dropped it into Loki's waiting palm. "Here is your blood, Laufeyson," the General growled, "and it is the only time you shall ever spill it." He spat upon the ground as an afterthought. "Now, mortal, you must uphold your end of the bargain."

"Might we have a moment to say our farewells?" Jane asked in a small voice.

The General bowed his head slightly. "You may."

Loki found himself being pushed aside as Jane rushed forward to throw her arms around Darcy. He looked away awkwardly as the elder woman began crying softly.

"You idiot, Darcy," she whispered, "why did you do that?"

"It was the only way," Darcy answered confidently.

Loki frowned. Why was she speaking so loudly? And then he heard the tiniest of whispers, something intended for Jane's ears only that even his godly hearing could scarcely detect. _"It's all under control."_

His heart stopped. _Oh no._

Why didn't he realize it earlier? Darcy was up to something. How had he missed it—he, the god of mischief and trickery?

He swallowed the words that threatened to burst forth from his lips. It was too late to warn Darcy to be careful without giving her away. The only thing to do was to wait and see how her plan unfolded.

He tried not to watch her too closely as she broke away from Jane's embrace. He nodded slightly at her by way of farewell, but gave no other indication that he saw her. Her lip quivered slightly, as though she was having second thoughts about her choice. Loki couldn't tell if it was part of the act or if she was truly afraid her plan wouldn't work.

She turned to the General. "Here is my end of the bargain," she said flatly.

Loki waited anxiously to see her next move—would she turn and run? Was she playing along to buy him and Jane time to escape if the jotun went back on their deal?

But Darcy did not step forward or turn around. She reached to her head and plucked a hair from it. Her arm shaking, she held her chin high as she let the strand of hair fall to the ground.

A flood of images filled Loki's mind. _The dream_. He knew instantly that she was doomed. He watched the lock of hair tumbling in the breeze, and he knew exactly how this dream ended: in agony. Only this time, it wasn't a dream. It was too late.

The General and his guard fell silent as Darcy let her hand fall back to her side. "What is this?" he growled in a low voice.

Darcy folded her hands behind her back demurely. Loki could see her fingers shaking, not from cold but from terror. "We agreed that my companions would not take a single hair from my head away from this realm. They won't. _There_ is your single hair, General, the one they shall not take with them to Asgard. I leave it here, as per our agreement." She bowed her head. "If you will excuse us, then, we must be leaving."

She turned to leave, but was stopped by a booming laugh. She closed her eyes. She realized too late that something was terribly wrong.

"Oho," the General bellowed, applauding sardonically. "Brava, mortal girl. Your tongue is as silvery as that of our slippery Asgardian friend. I daresay you would have made a remarkable team." He smirked, rising to his feet slowly. "A good attempt, mortal. But not nearly good enough."

He barked something in a harsh, guttural language, and his men sprang to action.

Loki reached for the sheath hidden on his upper arm instinctively, placing a hand on Darcy's shoulder to make her face him.

"Run," he said sharply.

"You think?" she deadpanned.

He smiled crookedly and gave her a little push in the right direction. She sprinted away as if her life depended on it, with Jane in close pursuit.

Loki turned to face the oncoming guards, twirling his dagger experimentally. He had no idea how much magic he had left before he became mortal in every sense of the word—he would have to fight this battle on wit and swordplay alone if he wanted to have enough magic and enough time to travel to Asgard safely.

The first guard came at him with no preamble, swinging his axe wildly. Loki ducked, laughing slightly. He had forgotten how much fun sparring with dimwitted, uncomplicated opponents could be. He feinted to the right with his dagger. The giant made to protect itself with a shield; Loki saw an opening on the left, and struck.

He wiped the blade absently on his coat as the next enemy blundered forward. _One down, three to…_

He hesitated. There had been _six_ guards with the General. Where were the other two?

"Darcy!"

"Less talking, more running!"

"Hold on a minute…Darcy!"

She sighed and staggered to a stop. "What?" she panted. "What could possibly be more important than outrunning angry frost giants with medieval weapons?"  
>"Why are we running?" Jane pointed out breathlessly. "We need to be with Loki to get away—why didn't we just grab him and transport away?"<p>

"He can't do magic instantly," Darcy said. "I saw some of the spells when I was looking up the Thrice Blood. When he does a transport spell, there's a few seconds of limbo where they could still hurt us—where he's done the spell, but we haven't quite vanished yet." Darcy started running again. "We need to get clear of the guards long enough to travel. Loki's buying us some time. I think he'll catch up."

"Darcy…" Jane said quietly.

"_What_?"

"Problem!"

Darcy spun on her heel. Two guards were coming towards them down the hall, wielding enormous metal clubs.

"Crap." Her eyes lit up. "Wait…I have an idea…"

Loki slashed the third giant in the leg, splattering jotun blood everywhere. He wrinkled his nose, passing over a possible kill shot. He never had liked that nasty sound effect knives made when they pierced flesh. He needed to cripple, not to kill.

He swiped at the last guard diagonally, aiming for its abdomen, when a piercing shriek filled the air. He stopped mid-swing. That was a Jane scream.

The giant took Loki's hesitation for weakness and stabbed at his jugular. Loki fended off the blow half-heartedly, pricking his ears up to hear signs of a battle elsewhere in the compound.

A thundering sound like two boulders striking each other crashed in the distance. Loki grimaced. This one would have to be inelegant; he had other matters to attend to.

He dispatched the guard efficiently and dashed madly out of the hall. He had to get to Darcy before she did anything reckless to protect Jane.

"Are you _trying_ to cause a cave-in?"

"I'm trying not to die!" Darcy snapped, darting between the two guards clumsily. "Besides, this place is hideous. They should thank me. I'm helping remodel." She ducked a wild swing from one of the giant's clubs. "In a way." She turned off to one side seconds before hitting the wall she was running towards. One of the giants did not have such quick reflexes.

Jane blanched as the guard hit the icy wall with a sickening 'thump' and slid to the ground, unconscious. "The other one's smarter," she shouted. "What do we do with him?"

Darcy shrugged, hurtling over the fallen giant's legs. "I dunno! Improvise something!"

Jane spun around frantically, searching for a tool. Her eyes settled on a jagged icicle. She held it up for Darcy's examination. "What about this?" she yelled. "It's sharp; you could use it as a knife."

Darcy panted, growing tired of the running. "They're—made—of—ice!" she snapped.

Jane blinked rapidly, wringing her hands. She needed to buy some time.

"Darcy!"

Both women turned around at the sound of Loki's voice.

He stopped at the entrance of the hallway, holding his knife's blade by the tips of his fingers. "Duck!" he ordered.

Darcy responded reflexively and fell to her knees. Seconds later, she heard the sound of an object moving very quickly over her head. She glanced up—and dived out of the way just in time.

The sixth guard fell facedown in the space where Darcy had been kneeling moments before, the hilt of Loki's dagger protruding from its back.

Jane sighed, her adrenaline crashing from the battle. "Nice aim," she said mildly.

"I try," he muttered, recovering his knife. He stared at the other giant laying unconscious against the wall. "How'd you manage that one?" he asked in a tone of surprise.

Darcy's answer was cut off by the clamor of armor and footsteps down the hallway. She shook her head. "Later," she stammered. "Get us out of here."

Loki nodded, holding out his elbows as he had done the last time. "Don't let go," he reminded them as they linked arms.

He closed his eyes, trying to drown out the commotion of reinforcements approaching them and focus on the magic.

The General let out a furious roar. "Kill them all!" he bellowed. One of his soldiers notched an arrow in his bow.

Loki screwed his eyes shut tightly, pulling the mortals closer to him, his hand somehow finding the small of Darcy's back protectively.

The arrow whistled through the air…and hit the opposite wall.

The General growled an earsplitting note that made the walls quiver and rain dust upon the room.

"I WILL TASTE BLOOD, LAUFEYSON! THIS MEANS WAR!"


	14. Home

**Author's Note: Double chapter post! (The cliffhanger is still coming—this is just a random double-chapter-post, since this is a short bit that didn't really fit into the last chapter, but is a little odd to tack on to the front of the next one.)**

**Also, unrelated shout out: go watch How It Should Have Ended's take of Thor on YouTube. It's awesome; it kind of tears apart the whole ending of the movie in a hilarious manner. (Although it doesn't do Tom Hiddleston's hotness justice.)**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Loki sighed with relief as his feet touched solid ground once more. He had stayed conscious this time.

He noticed with a start that he was still holding on to Darcy and Jane. He pulled his hand away from Darcy's back as though he was burned. She didn't seem to notice his guilty movement—she and Jane were too busy staring around in wonder.

"It's so beautiful," Jane murmured, smiling.

Loki made a noncommittal noise as he smoothed out his garments, transforming them into his usual armor. "This is just the foyer," he said. "I imagine Odin will be in the throne room at this time of day."

"What about Thor?" Darcy asked.

Loki grimaced. "Hard to say," he said. "He could be here; he could be out and about doing something else entirely."

Jane bit her lip anxiously. She seemed to be having second thoughts—what if Thor hadn't really loved her? What if he had moved on?

Loki hoped that Thor hadn't given up—on Jane, or on him. He realized now that he had been angry and foolish. He had never wanted to leave this realm, or anyone in it. He only hoped that they could forgive him.

He took a deep, shuddering breath as he stepped up to the door of the Throne Room, and he closed his eyes. They were going to hate him. They had every right to. _Murderer. Monster. Villain. Liar. Bastard. Frost giant. Jotun. Fiend. Traitor._

He pushed the door open with a loud creak. There was a moment of chattering in the Throne Room…and then a hush fell over the small crowd inside. Loki glanced about the room anxiously, searching for…

"Brother!"

He froze, afraid to move now that Thor had seen him. What was his reaction going to be? And why was Thor walking straight towards him?

He grunted slightly as a pair of burly arms crushed all of the air out of his ribcage. He smiled weakly.

"Hello, brother," he said hoarsely.

All was forgiven. Rib-crushingly so.

* * *

><p>Darcy smiled at the scene unfolding before her: Thor hugging his brother, eyes brimming with tears; Loki looking distinctly squished but not altogether unhappy; a grizzled old man who looked like a pirate rising to his feet slowly—presumably Odin.<p>

Only Jane was out of place in the heartwarming seen as she looked on from the edge of the room, her lip quivering.

"Thor?" she said softly.

He looked up and let go of Loki suddenly, his face splitting into an awestruck smile. All at once, he seemed to forget even his prodigal brother. He walked towards Jane slowly, with hesitation.

"Jane," he whispered. His voice broke.

She beamed at him, running forward to throw her arms around his neck. Their lips crashed together in a searing kiss, oblivious to the crowd looking on in their overjoyed haze. Darcy doubted that even a taser could get them to stop kissing.

After a long moment that bordered on uncomfortable, Thor and Jane broke apart, both of them blushing bright red. Thor brushed his thumb across Jane's cheek gently, searching her face as if he couldn't believe she was real. "How did you get here?" he asked, still smiling broadly. He glanced at Loki. "And how did _you_ survive?" He noticed Darcy for the first time. "Hello, Darcy."

"Thor," Odin said loudly from across the room. He turned to survey his other son with a slight nod. "Loki," he said more quietly. "I believe there are many questions that must be answered." He gestured to Loki. "Son…come with me. We shall confer. I am very curious to hear your latest tale of mischief." He smiled slightly. "Thor, please see to it that our guests are taken care of for the moment. I'm sure you will want to get reacquainted."

Loki met Thor's gaze and bowed slightly. "Brother," he said formally. He turned to Jane and nodded. "Jane." His eyes settled on Darcy. He didn't look away from her face as he bowed. "Darcy." He paused for a long moment, as if debating something internally, and turned to follow Odin from the hall.

Thor looked between the two women, visibly trying to contain the smile spreading across his face and failing, his cheeks dimpling. "Shall I give you ladies a tour of the palace?" he asked, taking Jane by the arm.

Darcy wrinkled her nose as she slipped the furs from her shoulders. "Actually, is there any way I could bathe while you two get, uh, reacquainted? I smell like giants and whatever dead animal this fur came from."

Thor chuckled. "Of course," he said. "I will arrange to let you both wash up if you wish, and that you both be given clean clothes."

Darcy tried to contain a little girly squeal of glee. It was stupid, but she felt really gross after trekking through snow for days and then having the jotun stare at her like a steak for two hours. Plus—though she would never admit it to anyone—the dresses were really pretty and shiny.

She shook her head. After surviving a near death experience and being eye-raped by frost giants, she was freaking out over a _dress_. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever grow out of her girly obsession with pretty things.

* * *

><p>Loki folded his hands behind his back. This was awkward, to say the very least. Thor may have forgiven his misdeeds and welcomed him with open arms…but Odin was always more cautious. He was unreadable, even to Loki, master of manipulation.<p>

The old man took a seat at the table and gestured for Loki to sit opposite him. He sat down without a word, studying Odin's face anxiously for some sign of what was to come.

Odin steepled his fingers and fixed his one eye upon Loki. "So, my son," he began. "You have returned to Asgard, bringing with you not an invading army or threats but Thor's beloved mortal and another human maid." He hesitated, uncharacteristically struggling for words. "I am astonished, but not at all unpleased. But I must ask you: how did this come to be?"

Loki sighed heavily. "It is a rather long story."

"Such things always are," Odin replied, his beard twitching with amusement. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning."

Loki nodded. "Very well," he murmured. "It began with the Bifrost…"

He told Odin of his arrival, of his wound, and of Darcy's assistance in finding the solution. He worried that the Thrice Blood spell would be difficult to explain, but as it turned out, Odin was familiar with its purpose. Loki continued, pausing only occasionally to answer questions. He told the story in all of its detail…except for Darcy.

He skipped over their conversations in the blizzards and by the campfire, and he didn't even consider mentioning his outburst in the glowing cavern—but these were irrelevant details, he rationalized, of no more importance than the precise geography of the land they had traveled on Jotunheim. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter.

He was entire truthful to Odin—albeit with judicious omissions—until it came time to recount his meeting with the jotun.

"We were captured," he explained, "and they brought us before the local leader—a general by the name of Orðin Leið."

Odin sighed. "Ah, yes. We have met. A very unusual dichotomy of cultured cunning and disgusting lack of civilized behavior. He is a worthy opponent in combat, but his pride…He is easily angered, making Thor seem practically level-headed by comparison, and he holds grudges for a remarkably long time."

"I gathered that," Loki said quietly. "I attempted to negotiate with him, but we were…unable to come to a tolerable agreement."

Odin raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he said. "You, with your persuasive abilities? I do believe you could make a king believe he was an ass, ears and all, if you wished. And you had no interference from Thor to ruin your attempt at diplomacy with rash action." His eye narrowed. "Are you sure no agreement could be made?"

_He knows. He knows you're not telling the whole truth. _But Loki could not tell Odin what had happened. He could not tell him of Darcy's trick, for if he said it in just the wrong way, it could be construed badly. He might blame Darcy, punish her for causing another war with the frost giants. No, Loki could not risk it, especially in light of her ignorance; she had doubtless been under the impression that the jotun operated the same way as the dwarves, bound to an agreement once they made it, damn the consequences. She studied politics on Midgard, she was not culpable for her mistake in making treaties with beings she had never dealt with before in her life.

"None suitable to my tastes," he said diplomatically.

Odin _hm_'d softly, and stroked his beard as he considered. "I see," he said sadly. He sighed and closed his eye. "Loki," he murmured, "my son, I have made my decision." He rose slowly to his feet, leaning upon the table for support. Loki stood at attention.

Odin hesitated a moment before speaking. "Your crimes regarding the attempted murder of the frost giants have been forgiven, due to your display of remorse in addition to your hand in reuniting Thor with his beloved. However," he said gravely, "I cannot grant you the blood you seek."

He waited for Loki to protest, but he was silent. He made no complaint—he simply stared at Odin without emotion.

"You have, in seeking jotun blood to heal your injury, inflamed the tension between our realms to a point where war is inevitable. Blood will be spilt. It is that unintentional crime that I must punish, for the sake of being just and unbiased in my discipline." His eye was not teary, but it ached with sadness all the same. "Please know that…" Odin hesitated. He seemed to be choking on words that he desperately wanted to say, but could not under the circumstances. "This is the only way," he said quietly. "I'm sorry…son."

Loki swallowed hard. "I understand," he said stiffly. "Your…your judgement is sound." He bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you."

And he left the room, with heavy heart but no regrets. He had done the right thing, for once. He had protected an innocent girl who did not deserve to be punished. That was enough.


	15. Justice

**Author's Note: Short chapter taking care of business, set-up for the next sequence of events, etc. Sorry if there's a delay before the next chapter...this next one will be hard. It's not the Big Cliffie; it's just different than what I usually write. It's a bit tricky.**

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

"Jane, how the hell is it that you pick a boring, no-frills, _mustard-colored_ dress and still manage to look like more of a princess than me?" Darcy said, trying fruitlessly to make the neckline of her gown stop creeping downwards.

Jane blushed. "I don't look like a princess," she mumbled, fidgeting with the bodice of her dress self-consciously.

"Is she always so modest?" Thor asked, smiling as he walked in the door.

Darcy waved her arms at him. "Dude! I said no peeking!"

He shrugged. "I grew bored waiting outside," he said lightly. He stared at Jane in the mirror, his smile still refusing to go away, even two hours after he had finally been reunited with her.

Darcy grumbled, tugging on the lacings at the back of her dress uncomfortably. "If you two really can't be separated for a few minutes at a time, why don't you go on to dinner? I'm still trying to figure out this stupid corset thing."

Thor nodded, winding his fingers with Jane's. "That sounds reasonable." He glanced at her uncertainly. "Are you sure that you can find your way around the palace? It can be a bit of a labyrinth."

Darcy waved a hand at them. "Go, you crazy lovebirds," she said, laughing. "I'll figure it out."

Jane shrugged, and Thor took that to be agreement. With a parting nod to Darcy, he stepped out of the room with Jane on his arm. The two were already deep in a new conversation before the door closed behind them.

Darcy sighed heavily, untying the back of her dress for the tenth time. This wasn't going to work. From the handful of dresses that a servant had delivered, she was resigned to the fact that all Viking women came in two sizes: athletic and slim, or enormously voluptuous. Maybe normal sized girls were just supposed to stick with pants.

She did a double take in the mirror, noticing for the first time a flash of color in her peripheral vision. She turned around to find the object in person: it was another dress, one she had skipped earlier…with good reason.

She held it up skeptically, trying to imagine herself wearing such a thing. First of all, it looked like Easter. She honestly couldn't think of a name for the color that didn't involve flowers or pastel-colored candies…wisteria, purple Peeps, lilac, orchid maybe. Definitely not the sort of color she would pick off the rack. Secondly, the cut was _ridiculous_. It looked like the demented spawn of Renaissance Faire and some sci-fi fantasy costumer's dream, with huge flowing sleeves that cut back over skin-tight sleeves and a skirt that would brush the floor on someone her height. If the sort of little girl who wanted to be a fairy-ballerina when she grew up designed wedding dresses, this could pass for one of them.

She heaved a tiny sigh of surrender. Maybe the off-the-shoulder thing would provide her a little more cleavage-cover.

* * *

><p>Loki walked through the hallways of the palace silently, listening to the sound of his solitary footsteps echoing on the stone walls. He reveled in the quiet, as he had so often when he was younger. It was his haven; during supper, when most everyone else in the palace was feasting in the Great Hall, he would slip away and take advantage of the silence. He could actually hear himself <em>think<em> instead of having to waste his mental energies filtering out the background noise. He could invent new spells, work through difficult problems, privately sort out whatever events of the day had troubled him. It was a chance for him to explore the grounds as well, discovering new hiding places, new nooks, new chambers where he could hide if the need (or impulse) arose.

He needed the quiet now. What was he going to do with his life, now that he was exiled? Perhaps he could make a home on one of the neutral realms. At the very least, Hel should let him take shelter in her world temporarily while he dealt with his affairs. He could probably work out some spell that would extend his life longer than that of a mortal. He certainly had enough raw intelligence and skill that he could make a living somewhere, somehow. The only question was…where? And doing what, specifically?

He was so lost in planning that he nearly failed to notice others approaching further down the gallery.

"Brother!"

Loki turned to give him a perfunctory smile. "Good evening, brother," he said absently. He dipped his head politely. "Jane."

Her cheery expression faded. She seemed to sense something awry in his speech—or maybe she noticed that his smile did not reach his eyes. "Loki," she said curiously. "What's the matter? We didn't see you at dinner?"

"I often choose to sup alone," he said, half-truthfully. "I find the noise of the Great Hall is not usually to my tastes."

Jane did not seem fully satisfied with his answer. _Clever woman._ But Thor, sanguine as always, took no notice of her reaction.

"What of your meeting with Father?" he asked, obviously expecting a positive answer. "Is everything sorted out?"

Loki paused. "Yes," he said carefully. "Everything is…arranged."

"What happened at the meeting?" Jane asked bluntly, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

He sighed. There could be no evading the truth now—not without lying directly, anyway. He let the smile fade from his face. "Well, I spoke with the All-Father, and…" He trailed off, unsure how to say what he needed to diplomatically.

Thor seemed to catch on. His brow furrowed. "And?" he supplied. "What of it?"  
>Loki folded his hands behind his back. "Odin has forgiven me my transgressions," he said stiffly. "However, he will not give me the Aesir blood I seek, for I have directly heightened pressures to the point of another war with Jotunheim."<p>

"He cannot," Thor burst out. "I shall speak with him…if I intercede, perhaps he will change his mind."

"Thor, you know as well as I do that the All-Father's decisions are never biased. He has chosen to do what is necessary to maintain justice. I told him what occurred on Jotunheim, and he ruled—rationally—that I was responsible for a crime, and as such, punishment was needed."

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that something seemed to click in Jane's eyes. She excused herself from the conversation quietly, mumbling something about needing to check on Darcy. Loki let her leave without comment, his focus directed towards preventing Thor from doing anything characteristically imprudent.

"This is not justice," Thor said angrily. "This is madness!"

"You have said that about a great many things, brother," Loki pointed out with a wry smile, "and, once again, I must point out that you are mistaken. I have created a situation that is dangerous to the safety of all Asgard, and as such, my immortality will not be returned to me." He sighed. "I do not like it any more than you do. But reason is reason. And I will not allow you to take action against the All-Father again, especially not for my sake."

Thor shook his head, visibly struggling to argue with Loki coherently. "It is not right…"

"Debatable. But it is fair."

"You are my brother!" Thor said furiously. "Whether you were born of another race or not, you _are_ my brother, and I will not permit you to die." He paused, and reached towards his sheath for a small knife. "If Odin will not give you the blood you seek, then I shall."

"No."

"You cannot stop me."

"Please, brother, don't waste your time mutilating yourself," Loki said, exasperated. "It is not a matter of you giving blood; it is a matter of me refusing to take the blood." He shook his head. "Don't you understand? This is not about lacking access to what I seek. This is about choosing not to obtain what it is that I need because the All-Father has ordered it so. If there is one thing I have learned over the years, Thor, it is that a half-truth is just as powerful as an outright lie. Likewise, taking advantage of a loophole may not be technically dishonest, but it is still untrustworthy." He stared at the wall. "I will not be a villain any longer."

Thor curled his hands into fists at his side. He seemed at a loss, unable to understand how he should behave once deprived of his ability to change a bad situation. "I…" He groaned. "I must consider," he said gruffly. "Tell Jane if she is looking for me that I am sparring with the Warriors."

He stormed off. Loki was left once again in silence…but for once, he had no thoughts to fill it. His mind was completely, utterly blank. He was not scheming, planning, coming up with ways to arrange for the downfall of whatever enemy was most pressing at the moment. He was free. In the space his villainous thoughts had once occupied, there was only silence.

It was deafening.


	16. Future

**Author's note: Another not-much-happens chapter. Don't worry. More action in the next few chapters. **

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Loki never had liked this tapestry much—but it did bring back memories: the time he almost set it on fire, the time he had actually set it on fire, the time when Frigga had just finished a replica to cover up the burned section of the wall only to have Thor immediately tear it with an errant nunchuck. Loki smiled wryly to himself. Nobody had been sad to see the end of Thor's exotic-weapons phase.

"Hey."

He glanced over his shoulder briefly at Darcy…and did a double take.

She looked stunning. He really couldn't think of another word that would encompass the way she looked: pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, breath-taking—none of them did her justice. He had never before seen her in a dress, nor in that color, for which he was silently thankful. If she had been waltzing around Jotunheim looking like she did now, it would have been thoroughly distracting.

He realized that he was staring, and turned back to the tapestry hurriedly. "Good evening," he muttered. _Don't look at her. Don't give in. Resist. _He studied the stitching in the drapery as though his life depended on it.

She came up beside him, a faint blur of purple and dark brown hair in his peripheral vision. She frowned slightly. "Why is the stitching across the unicorn's neck so much darker than the embroidery around it?"

Loki let his eyes wander towards her for a fleeting second; to not look at her at all would appear suspicious. "Thor tore a shred of the fabric off accidentally when we were younger, essentially decapitating the unicorn. Odin made Thor fix it himself as punishment because Frigga had already sewn it up once that week. Needless to say," he said, "needlepoint is not his forte."

She snorted. "_There's_ a mental image."

He felt the corners of his mouth quirk up in spite of himself. "You have no idea," he said with a small laugh.

Darcy fell silent. She seemed to be thinking about something very intently, debating how to say something uncomfortable, the way she was swaying on the balls of her feet.

"I ran into Thor in the hall," she blurted finally. "He told me what happened." She bit her lip before she spoke again. "I'm really sorry," she said.

"I do not require sympathy," he muttered. "What Odin did was perfectly fair given the circumstances. It is an inconvenience to me, but…I will make do. This is hardly the first time I've gotten myself into serious trouble. I will come up with something," he said confidently. "I'll figure out a way to survive."

Darcy nodded. "Will you stay here?" she asked.

"I'm not quite sure," he sighed. "I need to determine if I'm still truly welcome here after everything I did; Odin and Thor may have forgiven me, but the other Aesir may not be so compassionate. Worst case scenario, I could always take up residence in the realm of my daughter, Hel."

"You'd go to hell? _Literally_?"

He smiled slightly. "Obviously, it would not be ideal."

Darcy shrugged. "Why not stay on Earth?"

"Midgard?" He gave her a skeptical look. "What would I possibly do there? And how would I settle in? I cannot rely on my magic to alter peoples' memories anymore. Who there would help me, a stranger?"

"I'd help you."

He froze. His ears were filled all at once with a strange rushing sound, as though the possibilities in her words were flooding into his head. But he _couldn't_ have heard her properly. "What?" he asked in a low tone.

She shrugged. "I mean, if you were going to settle on Earth, I'd help you out the best I could. You could camp out in my dorm room for a few weeks while you took care of stuff. You're pretty smart; you could get a job if you wanted." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Or I could talk to some of my computer science nerd-friends and get them to hack the computers to get you accepted to the school…or at least fake enough documents for you to apply to the school like a normal person."

Loki stared at her, not sure whether to be more bewildered by the unfamiliar things she was talking about or awestruck by the way her eyes were dancing with mischief as she schemed out a theoretical life for him on Earth.

"And you could get a degree, a-and get a job, and a house, and live like a normal person and—"

In retrospect, Loki wasn't sure what propelled him to action in that instant. He didn't consciously move his hands or his face towards Darcy, but there was nobody else in the hall that might have pushed him. It was as though something inside him, separate from his mind, from his rational thinking, was guiding him with invisible strings as though he were a puppet. He closed his eyes, his thoughts fell silent, and he took Darcy's face in his hands.

He kissed her.

He couldn't see her as his lips danced against hers, but he felt her freeze against him for an instant, a brief moment of instinctive terror in her mouth and arms. But then she seemed to melt, as though the shock of the moment fled all at once. He felt her eyelashes brush his cheekbone as she closed her eyes. Her arms wound around his neck. Her fingers made it into his hair, rumpling the usually sleek strands that hung around the nape of his neck.

She kissed him back.

They broke apart after what seemed like a day. Darcy gasped for air as she pulled away from him, the surprise catching up with her mortal lungs. Loki's breath was steady as always, but he was certain that his heart was thudding so hard in his chest that Darcy could feel it.

"Sorry," he stammered, uncharacteristically lost for words. "That was…forward."

Darcy gave a shaky laugh. "Forward? What century are you guys in?" she said teasingly.

Loki stared at her, frowning.

She rolled her eyes jokingly. "Relax, I'm kidding. I think it's cute." She pulled him to her again, kissing him. Normally, Loki would have objected to anyone calling him 'cute.' Yet somehow the furrows in his brow began slipping away.

* * *

><p>Jane stormed into the room, her skirt fanning out behind her as the door opened. She stared at the man in armor with fire in her eyes, her hands curled into fists at her sides. "I wish to speak to the All-Father," she said briskly.<p>

The guard blinked at her, apparently confused. "Er, what?"

"The All-Father," Jane snapped, "Odin. There is an important matter of which I must inform him."

The guard didn't respond. He may as well have scratched his head for the lack of understanding in his eyes. "You…want to see the All-Father?" he repeated dumbly.

Jane clucked her tongue irritably and pushed past the guard through the curtained doorway behind him. The sentry made a noise of protest, reaching out weakly as if to stop her, but she was already bursting through the curtain into Odin's meeting chamber.

The old man rose to his feet as Jane entered, his expression flitting within a second from stunned to angry to gentle. "Lady Jane," he said in a tone of surprise, "what brings you here, and in such a temperament?"

She straightened her back, drawing herself up to her fullest height—which was, admittedly, feeble by god standards. "You have denied Loki the Aesir blood he needs in order to heal," she said coldly.

"I did," he confirmed, puzzled. "Justifiably so. Do you question his sentence?"

"Of course I question it," she said. "You punish an innocent man for refusing to give in to a terrorist's demands?"

Odin raised his eyebrows. "Terrorist's demands?" he repeated. "What in the name of Yggdrasil are you talking about?" His one eye widened, suddenly gleaming with suspicion. "Unless…" His face became impassive. "Lady Jane, I think you had best recount exactly what happened on Jotunheim…from your perspective."

"We were taken to the hall of a frost giant general."

"I know of the General, my dear, but what of your negotiations? Did not Loki refuse to comply with the proposed treaty put forth by the jotun people?"

"Yes, he refused!" Jane said furiously. "I hardly think it fair to expect him to die for a treaty, much less use Darcy as a bargaining chip."

Odin stared at Jane. "Darcy?" he said in a hollow voice.

She nodded curtly.

He sank into his chair. "Valhalla," he said softly. "What have I done?" He rested his head in his hands for a long moment, and then turned to survey Jane once more. "So the jotun general gave my son a choice of two treaties, two sacrifices that he could make in exchange for the jotun blood he required and peace between our kingdoms: his own life, which would render the blood moot, or the young woman who accompanied you—Darcy, you say?—as a slave to remain with them for the rest of her days?"

Jane nodded.

"And then what?"

Jane sighed, relenting at the apparent softening of Odin's tone. "Loki refused to give up his life. He then refused to permit Darcy to remain as a slave…quite vehemently," she said. "The general was being an absolute pig. Loki got very angry with him. And then Darcy got her brilliant idea."

Odin's eye narrowed. "What was this 'brilliant idea?'"

Jane rolled her eyes. "She tried to trick the frost giants. She agreed to a very specific contract that she defined, with a loophole that she designed with her word choice. When she attempted to follow through on her loophole…well, it got ugly."

Odin laughed quietly. "Oh, that mortal girl," he said with a small smile. "I expect she could learn much from Loki if they were to spend enough time together." His eye turned downcast. "Unfortunately, she has made a grave error, for she attempted to use a trick that my son once used against _the dwarves_ upon the _frost giant_ race." He shook his head. "Their codes of honor, their ideals are entirely different. The dwarves are an honest race. Not compassionate, but trustworthy. They will keep their word to the letter, and to the intent. When they have been outsmarted, they admit defeat. The jotun on the other hand…" Odin seemed to stare off into space with his one eye, looking without seeing what was right in front of him. "They are a proud race, fearsome and aggressive. They are purely utilitarian. They have no notion of good, no notion of trustworthiness in its purest form. They merely behave in ways that further their own interests. Sometimes civilized behavior suits their purpose. But often it does not." He gave Jane a stern, one-eyed stare. "Your friend has made the mistake of insulting their pride. They do not take insult lightly. Nevertheless," he said gently, "a mistake it was, borne of ignorance, not of willful choice." His lips settled into a thin line, and he fell silent for several moments.

"I have erred," he said, his voice regaining the full, regal quality that it bore when he spoke in the Great Hall. "Go, Lady Jane, tell my son, your beloved: we prepare for war. At morning, we ride." He stood and strode towards the doorway.

Jane hesitated. "Would he not rather hear it from you, sir?"

Odin smiled slightly. "He may, but I have other matters to attend to. My son, Loki, has been wrongly punished…and we shall need all the wit we can procure. I must go. He must become a god once more."

**Author's Note: Okay, I lied. A lot happened. But I couldn't have you expecting any of that. **


	17. Magic

**Mythology Note: the "new arrivals" referred to here are the mortals who die in combat who were, in Norse legends, brought to Valhalla by the Valkyries. Also, not sure if there are actually villages on Asgard, so I added that with author's license. I figure there have to be other minor gods without much power on Asgard; who else filled the halls at Thor's coronation?**

**If any of you know more about Norse mythology, please let me know in the reviews. My resources don't tell me much about these sorts of details.**

**Also, just realized AFTER publishing this chapter that my computer auto-corrected all of the curse words into jibberish. So some of it didn't make sense. My apologies-what you see now is the correct rendition of the text.**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

In a matter of minutes, the blanket of quiet that usually fell over the villages surrounding the palace during the night shattered and transformed into a frenzy of warriors and weapons. Even Thor, who usually parted crowds merely by stepping into the room, had to dodge out of the way of several men trying to keep control of wild horses or deliver weapons to somebody.

He finally reached the stable where the Warriors Three and Sif had gathered to prepare for battle. He had to stoop over the low table Sif was using to pore over maps of Jotunheim. "How many warriors do we have?" he asked.

"About three hundred," Fandral said.

Sif glared at him. "Three hundred able-bodied men and women who _want_ to fight," she amended sharply. She crossed her arms and turned to Thor. "We only have a handful of real warriors at the moment: the Valkyries, about a dozen of their new arrivals from Midgard who actually know how to use swords, perhaps seven townspeople who are actually competent at warfare…"

"And Loki."

The Warriors and Sif stared at him in disbelief.

"So it's true?" Hogun said incredulously.

"Oh, we know it's true," Sif snapped. "There must have been twenty people in the hall when he arrived. What I want to know is why we suddenly trust the _Frost Giant_ after he betrayed us."

"Now is not the time to explain," Thor said evenly. "We have more important matters to attend to. But know this: I shall be working in tandem with my brother, and I expect all four of you to do the same." He looked at each of them sternly. "I trust him. Do you each trust _me_?"

They hesitated. After a long pause, Fandral nodded.

"With my life."

"With all of our lives," Volstagg said, unsheathing his sword.

Hogun nodded in agreement.

Thor turned to study Sif, who was still glaring at him with steely eyes. "What say you, Lady Sif?" he asked.

She stared at him a moment longer, raising an eyebrow. "If he tries to make me to bow to him again, I _will_ break his nose." She sighed. "Alright. Where is the sorry bastard? He needs to be armored up if he expects to tag along."

Thor glanced towards the castle. "He's getting ready. In his own way."

* * *

><p>"Would it be redundant to call you a bitch again?" Darcy snapped as she and Loki hurried down the staircase to the gardens.<p>

"Yes, but if it makes you feel better, by all means."

"You're a bitch."

"Arf."

"_And_ you're a smart-ass ."

"It comes with the territory."

Darcy sighed. "I still can't believe you lied to Odin to 'protect' me."

"I didn't lie," Loki said hurriedly. "I _omitted_."

"On the off chance he did think I should be punished, what's the worst thing he could do? I don't have any immortality to take away."

"Oh, we gods are pretty creative at punishment," Loki said breezily. "Nothing I would want or expect you to endure, especially since most of them would kill a mortal. Beheading, sewing peoples' lips shut, tying people up under a poisonous snake so that venom falls all over them and burns through their skin…" He held out his arm as he opened a door for Darcy. She rolled her eyes.

"Why do I get the impression that these punishments were invented for _you_?"

"Well, I am, as you say, 'a bitch ' and a smart-ass. Although if you wanted to get technical about it I'm usually male, so the title 'bitch' would be somewhat inaccurate."

"_Usually?_"

"I believe we've discussed the matter of my shapeshifting across genders before."

"That explains it. I blocked the memory out because the idea of Thor in a dress was too traumatizing to handle," she deadpanned.

Loki swallowed the comeback on his lips, for they had reached the marble pavilion in the middle of the herb gardens. Odin was there waiting, his back to the pathway as he stared up at the stars.

"I am ready to perform the spell, All-Father," Loki announced by way of greeting.

Odin turned around, a grim look on his face.

"Have you the materials?" he asked.

Loki reached into the folds of his armor and withdrew the vial from the General.

Darcy felt slightly nauseous. "You don't have to, like, drink that…right?"

"No." He fished a small dagger and a pair of vials from his cloak as well. "What the spell consists of is mixing the blood from each of the persons and applying it like a salve to the scar while focusing a particular brand of healing magic upon myself." He handed the dagger and one of the vials to Odin. "One or two drops from each of you will suffice."

Odin smoothly took the blade and pierced his fingertip with it. Without flinching, he held the cut over the vial until two small drops of crimson spilled out. Once he finished stoppering the bottle, he murmured something in a tongue Darcy couldn't recognize, setting his finger afire in a small blaze of light. When the fire petered out, no hint of the cut was left on Odin's hand.

She grimaced. _My turn_. She reached out for the knife, but Loki caught her wrist.

"I'll do it," he said. He unflexed her pinky gently and laid the smallest edge of the knife against her skin. She screwed her eyes shut, expecting a stab of sharp pain. But she felt nothing.

She opened her eyes, confused. She found that Loki was already putting a stopper on the flask. He smiled slightly. "Insensitivity spell," he explained. He then took her hand by the finger smoothly, and held it up to his lips. He breathed softly onto the cut. Darcy squirmed a little bit; his breath tickled. She almost didn't notice the surface of her fingertip knitting itself together, little strips of white crisscrossing over the small scarlet line in a healing dance, turning rapidly pink and finally smoothing out as if the skin had never been broken.

"That's just freaky," she said, making a face.

"That's nothing," Loki said, his eyes gleaming. He reached into his cloak as if to retrieve the flasks. He paused slightly. "You may want to step back a little bit," he warned Darcy. She backed away hurriedly. Giving her and Odin one final glance, Loki returned his attention to the vials of blood. He looked at them intently for a moment, as if admiring some work of art. His face turned serious after a few seconds. He removed the cork from the largest of the vials-the General's blood. Balancing the open bottle on his fingertips gingerly, he opened the second bottle with a small 'pop.' He wrinkled his nose slightly as he tipped the contents of the second vial into the first. He gently swirled the crimson liquid. It continued to churn in circles even as he stopped to open the last vial. His eyes darted to Darcy as he held the bottle on the cusp of the others. She smiled at him reassuringly. He gripped the flask and slowly let the blood pour out. He braced himself, half-expecting sparks or beams of light to pour out.

Nothing happened.

He frowned. "That's odd," he murmured.

Odin narrowed his eye. "Perhaps you must to apply the blood to your wound in order for a reaction to occur."

Loki's lips settled into a thin, anxious line. "Perhaps," he said cautiously. He held the bottle out to Darcy. "Would you hold this for a moment? And, er, don't drop it or do anything to it, please."

"What would happen if I did do something to it?" she asked, suppressing a grin.

"Remember that vortex of doom and despair?"

"Right," Darcy said sheepishly. "No touchy."

She held on to the flask with both hands as if her life depended on it...then realized that it was made of glass. She relaxed her fingers slightly. She looked up from the glass absently only to promptly look down at her hands again. Loki was unfastening his cloak and armor, peeling away the layers to expose his back-and, by extension, his chest. _Not the time_, she told herself sternly. _No touchy. You promised._

He reached out to take the flask from her, eying her curiously. "What?" he asked.

Darcy handed him the vial, rolling her eyes. "Just hurry up and get your shirt back on," she snapped.

He seemed to be debating something in his mind, the way he was visibly trying not to smile. She saw his eyes flit to Odin in his peripheral vision, and he wiped the smile from his face. But his eyes kept glinting with mischief as he took the vial.

"I don't know if I can reach," he teased. "You might have to help me."

"Don't push your luck," she said flatly.

Odin raised an eyebrow sternly. "Son, as much as Frigga would love to see you married off, don't you think there are more important things to take care of right now?"

Darcy could have sworn she saw a flush spread across Loki's cheeks for a split second. But when she peered closer, it seemed to be a trick of the light. He cleared his throat slightly. "Yes, certainly."

Without further comment, he covered the mouth of the vial with his finger and tipped the bottle upside down. Grimacing, he let some of the blood spill onto his hand before stoppering the bottle again. He raised the bottle in a sarcastic toasting gesture to Darcy and Odin. Then he twisted around to apply the blood to his scar. The result was immediate.

Darcy raised a hand to her eyes without thinking, her eyes screwing up against the sudden gust of wind that roared through the pavilion. She peered through her fingers hesitantly, searching for Loki somewhere in the newly-formed halo of light. It was no use. She looked away from the blaze; strange colored shapes danced across her vision as she recovered from the intensity of the light.

But Odin remained standing upright, his eye fixed intently on the center of the aurora, showing no signs of disturbance. "It is working," he said over the deafening gale. "The transformation is almost through."  
>Darcy took his word for it, not daring to look at the light again for fear of being blinded. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the howling winds stopped. Darcy kept her hand in front of her face a minute longer, and did not turn around, just to be safe.<p>

"Darcy..."

She felt little tendrils of her hair start whipping around her face again, and she turned farther around to brace herself on the garden wall against the renewed storm.

"My son, perhaps you could test out your newly-refound powers upon something in the garden besides Lady Darcy."

Hearing Odin's words, whe glanced at Loki through her outstretched fingers cautiously. Her breath was nearly stolen away.

If his eyes had been green before, they were practically the color of jade now. His whole person seemed to glow from within, every feature more clearly defined than it had been on Earth. His skin lost the faintly bluish cast it had obtained from being on Jotunheim. His hair was darker and thicker. Her eyes wandered downwards and stopped on his lower back.

"Your scar," she said, gesturing to him. "I thought that would go away with the spell."

He began to twist around to look at it, then his lips turned up in a devilish smile. He frowned as though deep in concentration for a moment...and he stepped away from himself.

Darcy couldn't believe what she was seeing. One Loki was standing perfectly still, looking thoughtful, and another was walking around behind the first with a grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He peered at his duplicate's lower back to where Darcy was pointing.

"That is curious," he said quietly, turning somewhat serious. He reached around to feel his own lower back absently, searching for a scar.

"Is 'curious' god-speak for 'really goddamn trippy?" Darcy asked incredulously.

His roguish smile returned. "You think this is a good trick," he said, "wait until you see—"

"Loki, my son, I hardly think now is the time for a demonstration of your entire repetoire of spells," Odin said. Darcy got the distinct impression that he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes.

Loki nodded. "Of course, All-Father. It wasn't my intent to show off." He glanced at Darcy. "But I would like to try a couple of my more rudimentary enchantments here," he said, "rather than on the battlefield. Imagine, for instance, if I discovered that I was unable to do a basic fire spell inthe middle of a hand-to-hand fight." He held his hand up; it promptly burst into green flames. He waved his fingers through the air and the fire died. "Or that I could not walk through an enemy or a battle axe." He stepped casually through a bronze statue on the rim of the pavillion, his body turning transluscent where the metal met his skin. He came back to the center of the circle, nodding his satisfaction. "Yes, I think my magic is restored enough to do most of my basic battle hexes and charms." He bowed to Odin. "With that fact established, I believe my brother and the Warriors are expecting me to assist in preparations for battle."

He turned to Darcy. She half-expected him to kiss her hand—if that was, in fact, what Asgardian etiquette dictate he do. Instead, he winked and waved his hand with a flourish. And then he left, _floating_ through the staircase...and leaving a hedge of flowers growing at an alarming rate in his wake.

Darcy brushed away the little purple buds that threatened to wrap around her wrists and waist without—she was proud of herself—a single giggle or smile. She turned to Odin, smoothing any hint of amusement from her face. "What can I do to assist with the battle, sir?" she asked formally.

He grimaced. "Lady Darcy, if the battle we are about to engage in reached a point where you were forced to enter the fray, I doubt there is much that any of us could do except pray." He stroked his beard thougthfully. "Nevertheless, if you wish to participate in some effect, I suggest you speak to Freyja."

"The love goddess?" Darcy asked, astonished.

"She is as much a warrior as the Valkyries themselves," Odin said gravely. "Half of the mortal dead belong to her when they pass on. She is responsible for the defense of Asgard when the other warriors and myself are absent, although her defenses have never been required." He nodded. "Go, child. Find her."

Darcy scurried off without another word.


	18. Dawn

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

"Are all of our soldiers ready for battle?"

"All three hundred of them," Fandral said cheerfully.

"All three dozen, I think you mean."

Loki tried not to roll his eyes as Sif raised her voice for the tenth time in a half-hour. "We could stand about and argue all evening about how many soldiers we have and not come to a consensus," he snapped. "But, as fun as that would be, I think we have more important things to deal with than a competition to see who has the loudest voice." He rested his elbows on the strategy table calmly. "Fandral, what definition of 'soldier' are you operating under?"

"Er…" Fandral frowned. "People with weapons. And, uh, limbs to carry them with." He gestured awkwardly, as if he were trying to play charades and failing miserably.

Loki grimaced. "Well, seeing as that definition could extend to half of the _infants_ in the surrounding villages, I think we ought to be a little more selective about our recruitment." He raised an eyebrow at Sif. "What about you, Sif? What does your definition consist of?"

"The warriors that'd take her more than a minute to defeat," Hogun muttered under his breath.

Sif glared. "Don't be stupid," she said flatly. "If I were being that picky, it would be myself, Thor, and Odin fighting alone." She turned to Loki with crossed arms. "My count of roughly three dozen worthy warriors consists of those who could last more than twenty seconds in battle with me."

"Ah," he said quietly. "That explains it." He glanced at Thor, who seemed to be trying not to laugh at the exchange going on under his command. "Thor, for the sake of balancing quality of warriors with quantity, I suggest we create an intermediate standard. We shall lead an army of those citizens who have received any sort of formal training with a weapon, excluding children and the wounded."

Thor nodded. "A good plan," he said. "How many troops does that give us?"

"One hundred and fifty-two," Volstagg said promptly. The others turned to stare at him, flabbergasted; he hadn't seemed to even be listening, as engaged as he was in his snack. He shrugged. "I had to count how many other people were eating at the last feast to figure out how much food I could sneak from the kitchens without getting caught. I got away with twelve loaves of bread, one roast pig, three flasks of ale…"

"One hundred and fifty-two men," Thor interrupted. "And women," he added, seeing Sif's hand creep towards her sword. "I assume most of them are trained in swordplay?"

"If you can call them 'trained,'" Sif said disparagingly.

"Good," he said. "That means that my plan should work." He smoothed out the curling edges of a map of Jotunheim that was laid out on the table before him. "First, we must all travel to Jotunheim. Obviously, we don't have the Bifrost anymore, but Loki says that he can perform a transportation spell strong enough to get an army over there, assuming everyone is congregated in a small area. At dawn, we shall gather the troops in front of the entrance to Valhalla." He gestured to a mountain pass that divided the map in two. "We will arrive here, at the base of Mount Skydd. From there," he traced a finger along the map, "we will proceed towards the city of Ghourruhn, where we will most likely encounter the General Oroin and his army. The attack will be led by a small striking force made up of the Valkyries, Odin, and me. We will eliminate through brute force as many enemy warriors as we can. The rest of the army will clean up the mess left behind, in all likelihood, the ones we managed to wound but not kill on our first strike."

"Who will lead the second wave?"

Thor gave Sif a serious look. "That command is yours, Lady Sif, if you accept it."

Her eyes flashed. "My own army?" she said, speaking for the first time all day without even a hint of sarcasm. Thor nodded. She smiled. "I accept."

"Good," Thor said. "We'll need your technical skills in case we come across any unusually gifted warriors, backed up by the Warriors Three, of course." He turned to Loki. "Brother, your task is…"

"To confuse, bewilder, and discombobulate the enemy through acts of controlled chaos in order to make it easier for your invading horde?" He smiled crookedly. "The usual, then."

"Actually, in addition to your usual antics, I also ask that you intervene should any individual warrior take too long fighting one opponent. The longer we spend fighting in the cold, the wearier and less effective we become."

"Understood."

Thor surveyed the group at large. "Very good. We depart at dawn."

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, pardon me!" Darcy grimaced as she found herself staring directly into a horse's neck. "Ugh," she groused. "You are the worst pony <em>ever<em>!" She ducked around the horse's neck clumsily, barely missing being hit by a sword passing over her head.

"Darcy?" Her stomach did a little flip-flop. She had only heard Loki startled once or twice before. It was a very pleasant sound, and it was a wonderful feeling to know that she could actually _surprise_ the god of mischief and cunning. His shock soon dissipated to annoyance, but it kept flitting away from his face in some other expression she couldn't identify...anxiety, perhaps, or his heavily masked version of it. "What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to scowl at her. "I thought you were helping Freya seal up the palace." His eyes darted down at her attire. "And why are you wearing armor?"

"I heard the announcement of who is eligible to join the battle," she said breathlessly, fidgeting with her armor—it was almost falling down her arms and legs while simultaneously compressing her chest. "Anyone who has received any sort of formal training with a weapon, excluding children and the wounded. I'm not wounded, and if you honestly want to argue that I'm a child, I really need to rethink the whole making-out thing."

"Formal training with a weapon is the prerequisite I question," Loki said. _Damn_. She had really thought that mentioning kissing might derail him, but he hadn't so much as flinched.

But she came prepared. Loki crossed his arms quizzically as she rummaged through the thick, lavender folds of her cape. "Hang on…I know it's here somewhere," she muttered. "Aha!"

She held up her weapon triumphantly. Loki took it from her, trying out different configurations of his fingers to hold the weapon. "What is this contraption?" he asked.

Darcy pried his finger away from the prongs of the Taser. _The last thing we need is another god being electrocuted, _she thought. "I call him Tay-Z," she said, grinning. He gave her a puzzled look. She shook her head. "Midgard reference. Pop culture." She sighed. "Just ignore me."

Loki raised an eyebrow as he handed the weapon back to her. "I don't know what that means or how this weapon operates—if it is even a weapon at all—but there is one other condition that you seem to have missed: citizen." She stared at him blankly. "As in of Asgard," he clarified. "A god or a goddess."

"Are you suggesting I'm not a goddess?" she said, fake-pouting.

"I'm not even going to reply to that," Loki said airily, "any more than I will ever answer the question 'does this make me look fat?' Do you know why?"

Darcy didn't answer.

Loki leaned in towards her so that their noses were touching, his bright green eyes staring directly into her blue ones. "Because," he said in a low voice, "you are trying to trick me into a no-win situation." He smiled and stood upright. "If you are going to trick a trickster, Darcy, you really must try a little harder than that."

She groaned. He was such a cheater. It wasn't fair for him to be able to make his voice all velvety and soothing like that. Or for his eyes to be so damned pretty. Or…well, his whole face was patently unfair. And she wasn't even going to think about how she wanted to breathe his scent every day for the rest of forever. "So you're not letting me fight?" she said pathetically.

"No, Darcy Lewis, I am not letting you fight," he said firmly. "Or travel back to Jotunheim, or become involved in this battle, melee, or other-synonyms-for-fight in any capacity other than staying in Valhalla and defending the palace if the situation becomes that dire." He paused. "I think that just about closes up all the loopholes." She crossed her arms, slumping. Loki brushed his fingers across her cheek, tilting her chin up to look at him. His eyes were no longer shining with humor or trickery; they were tinged with gray and deathly serious. "I don't doubt your abilities as a warrior woman, any more than I doubt your…your _borderline suicidal_ courage or eccentric ingenuity. But you are a human. A mortal. You could be injured or killed." His voice wavered slightly, as if he were forcing it not to break. He pressed his lips together. "You could be hurt," he repeated, "far more easily than a god could. And I cannot take that chance, as a responsible strategist for this army or as your…whatever I am to you." He kissed her forehead lightly. "My answer is no."

She wrapped her arms around his chest in a tight embrace. His arms slowly wound around her waist. "You could die too," she said in a tiny voice.

"I could," he conceded softly. "I promise you, though, I will return."

Darcy bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over her eyelashes. "That's what Thor said."

Loki tensed slightly and pulled away, looking down at Darcy's face with a worried expression. He wiped her tears away with his thumb. "I told you once that I never lied to you, and that I never would lie to you. Did you trust me when I said that?" Darcy nodded, suppressing a sniffle with difficulty. Loki flicked his finger absently, and she found she was able to breathe normally again, although the traces of tears remained cold on her cheek. "Then my promise still stands. I have not ever lied to you, and I will not ever lie to you. I will return," he said firmly. "Whatever it takes."

Darcy forced a smile and hugged him tightly again. They stood there, perfectly still for a while, savoring the last moments before the world became chaos and bloodshed once more.

* * *

><p>Thor was the last one to meet at the top of the hill before the crowd of warriors. He arrived just before dawn.<p>

"What took you so long?" Sif asked impatiently.

Thor smiled. "I, er, I had some important matters to attend to."

Loki raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" he asked. "And what important matters might you be referring to, Brother?"

Thor cleared his throat, shuffling his feet with an uncharacteristic lack of composure. "Lady Jane and I are betrothed," he muttered.

Sif's mouth dropped open. Odin let out a small cry of laughter.

"My son, this is wondrous news!" he said. "Frigga shall be so pleased. Of course, Lady Jane will be a welcome addition to our court. I'm sure we could find some specialization for her to study in the absence of her Midgardian science."

Thor smiled awkwardly at their reactions, peering off to the horizon for the first sign of sunlight. "It is nearly daybreak," he said. "All-Father, the troops await your statement."

Odin shook his head. "No, my Son. It is your words they wait for. Though I may still rule in many respects, you are the leader of this army now."

Thor hesitated, and then swallowed nervously. "Of course," he said, nodding. He turned to the crowd in the valley beneath the hill. "My people," he bellowed. "Warriors. Today, we ride to Jotunheim to face the frost giants in combat. I know, as all of you know, as every soldier in the history of warfare has known, that not everyone will return to Asgard alive. Some of you, some of _us_ will pass on. But I promise that the blood spilt here today will not be in vain, because it will be shed to protect everything that we hold dear. We must fight our hardest, then, so that if we die, we will do so without regret. If we die, we will die honorably. If we die, we will die protecting our home, and the people we love. So let us try our damnedest not to die! Let us fight until our last breath so that others may live! Let us be valiant! Let us be brave! To our very end, let us be warriors!"

And as the sun rose over the hill, the crowd let out the most fearsome battle cry that had ever been known to Asgard, not the loudest or the most combative, but the most passionate, the most noble.


	19. Trap

**Cliffhanger approaching. No, not this chapter. But it will be soon. And trust me when I say, you will know it when you see it. The chapter endings that have been referred to as "cliffies" in the reviews so far are nothing to compare to the one coming up. But don't fear. When I do post that cliffhanger, I will immediately follow it with the conclusion. **

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Loki stepped out from the void cautiously, his fingers straying instinctively close to the dagger hidden up his sleeve. He turned slowly on his heel and scanned the horizons. _Come out, come out, wherever you are._

He heard a sword being unsheathed behind him, followed by a series of heavy footsteps in the snow. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the portal close behind the last of the soldiers. Thor came forward with his sword drawn, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Strange," he said quietly. "I thought they knew we were coming."

"I'll bet they do." Sif drew her sword as she and Odin joined the brothers. "This smells like a trap." She pursed her lips and turned to her team. "Ready your weapons," she ordered, "and stay on your guard."

Odin stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze trained on something in the foggy distance as Loki and Thor talked in low voices.

"I think Sif is right. This is no doubt their attempt to lure us into a false sense of security."

"I don't think so," Loki said. "It's too obvious, and that sort of tactic isn't consistent with my impressions of the General." He frowned. "Guerrilla warfare requires patience and subtlety. It's the sort of approach I would take if I were planning an invasion. The General is a different beast entirely. He's aggressive, easily angered, very determined, arrogant, impul-" He stopped cold in a flash of recognition, as if a set of tumblers in his mind were falling into place. "Wait a moment," he murmured, turning to look at his brother.

"What?"

Loki stared at Thor intently. "If _you_ had a grudge against another realm," he said slowly, "and you had reason to believe they were planning an invasion, how would _you_respond?"

"Brother, I think we've been in this scenario before," Thor laughed. "I wouldn't wait to be invaded, I would..." Loki raised an eyebrow significantly. Thor froze, as his train of thought caught up with Loki's. "No. No, they couldn't."

"You would what?" Sif demanded as Thor began pacing furiously, running a hand through his beard. "What would you do?"

"He would do exactly what he did before," Loki said flatly. "He would make the first move."

Sif went pale. "Oh, damn them," she hissed. "Damn them all to Niflheim." She sheathed her sword, turning to Odin for guidance. "What shall we do, All-Father?"

He gestured to Thor. "I am no longer the general of this army," he said. "The decision is not mine to make."

In unison, they all looked to Thor expectantly. He cleared his throat. "Lady Sif," he said, his voice regaining the commanding timbre it had taken on during his speech to the army, "take the Warriors Three and all of the soldiers back to Asgard. Fend off the invasion the best you can. If aggression fails, fall back. Defend Valhalla at all cost." He paused as she nodded, started to relay the orders to the soldiers. "And Lady Sif," he interrupted. She glanced at him. "Protect Jane and Darcy," he said quietly. "Don't let them get anywhere near the fight."

She nodded. "Understood." She scowled and began to bellow at the rest of the army. "There has been a change in plans," she shouted. "We return to Asgard. There is no time to explain the circumstances. Turn and ready yourselves for battle. To formations! Loki, the portal." She held her sword overhead and parted the soldiers like a sea as she strode towards the portal. "For Asgard!" The troops took up her rallying cry in a chorus of voices that vanished one by one as they stepped back into the multicolored chasm.

Thor returned his attention to Loki and Odin. "And what of our task, my son?" Odin asked.

"We must eliminate the threat at its source," Thor said. "The General and I may have much in common, but he is something that I am not: a coward. If we can find him at his palace and reason with him, then we can end this war before innocent blood is spilt. If he does not listen to reason..." He frowned. "Then we must destroy him before he destroys us. Loki, you know where the General resides. Which way?"

Loki pointed. "There," he said. "It's not far. Less than a mile away."

Thor nodded. "Good. Then let us end this." His scowl wavered. "I only hope that we are not too late...What if our soldiers are not enough? If they giants break through our defenses, they could kill everyone that took refuge in Valhalla. The children, the elderly."

"It will not come to that," Loki said firmly. "Our soldiers are far more capable and quick-witted than my blood relatives. And for all her antagonism, Sif is a natural leader and warrior."

"My son, you forget to mention one of Asgard's greatest defenses," Odin said, smiling slightly. "I daresay the women _inside_ Valhalla's walls will put up quite a fight themselves."

* * *

><p>Darcy sprinted headlong down the corridor towards the source of the din, her stomach clenching in fear every time a shriek echoed through the palace. She found the door to the Great Hall open and raced in anxiously, beginning instinctively her scan of the room for a familiar face. She found Jane alongside an older woman with curly hair trying to comfort a group of teary-eyed children huddled around a small table.<p>

"What happened?" she stammered. "I heard a noise and something shook the castle."

The elder woman stood, glancing at Jane to silently tell her to remain with the children. She turned to Darcy. "We're under attack," she said in a low voice.

"_What_?" Darcy's eyes widened. "But how…" She clenched her fists in realization. "Loki?"

The woman nodded. "I expect he taught the frost giants how to create a passage between the worlds in his time as a double agent."

"To earn their trust," Darcy finished.

"Precisely."

Darcy sighed. "If we live through this, remind me to kill him. Or at least slap him very hard. Where's Lady Freya?"

The woman pointed towards the entrance of the palace. "Guarding the gate, I expect, with Heimdall."

Darcy nodded. "Thank you." And she hurried off, armor clattering loudly with every footstep. She scowled. She really needed to find women's armor, or at least something smaller than Size Thor.

* * *

><p><em>Crack<em>.

Thor raised his hand in warning to the others. Loki stopped dead in his tracks, hand dancing around the hidden dagger cagily. In sync with Thor and Odin, he looked all around for the source of the noise, to each side, behind them…

He wrinkled his nose. Something nearby smelled disgusting. Like animal skins and dried blood—and jotun.

He looked up. "We've got company," he hissed.

The three sprang into action as a group of frost giants leaped down from the icy ledge above. Thor took on five giants at once, eliminating them quickly with broad swings. Odin became locked in vicious combat with one of the more intelligent giants, turning the narrow canyon under the cliffs into a clanging din of metal striking metal, leaving Loki with…

_Ten giants,_ he thought, calculating. _Piece of cake_. He closed his eyes and focused on a mental image of himself before a pair of opposite mirrors, reflection after reflection after reflection in an infinite chain of Lokis. He flicked his ring finger subtly, transferring his consciousness to a random projection, and opened his eyes.

The giants were comically perplexed. One of the giants, obviously the leader, hesitated for a moment before swinging wildly at a random Loki. The projection flickered translucent and the giant lost his balance, swaying violently as he tried not to fall down. His arms swung out for stability—his club striking two of the other giants in the head. With a sound like boulders crashing together, they fell to the ground.

Loki suppressed a laugh as the other giants looked at each other with wide, horrified gazes, clearly bewildered and unsure how to deal with the circumstances. If Loki wasn't so deeply worried about Asgard and Darcy, he would have been doubled over in hysterics at the looks on their stupid faces.

"Thor!"

Loki spun on his heel, ready to strike against whatever foe Odin was warning his brother against. He went pale. "Oh no," he murmured.

It was not a single opponent Odin was pointing at, but legions of them, stretched out over the vast plain outside the mouth of the canyon. Loki's stomach churned as he looked out over the sea of blue and scarlet. For once, he was inclined to take a leaf out of Thor's book and refer to the situation for what it truly was: madness.

His memory flashed back with a pang to the last time he talked to Darcy, to his promise. He pressed his lips together in a tight line. He'd just have to find a way to keep his oath.

* * *

><p>"Archers, the left flank, on my mark! FIRE!"<p>

Darcy watched in awe as a rain of arrows flew over her head towards the invading army of frost giants…and missed the mark entirely. Most of the arrows went wild, landing on rooftops or fields nearby. Even the shots that made it within the prescribed area failed to make their marks.

The woman shouting out orders closed her eyes, visibly irritated by her defense's incompetency. She shook it off, however, with a toss of her fiery red hair.

"Reload!" she cried. "Take aim! The front line!" She signaled with a drop of her arm. "Fire!"

Again the arrows bounced fruitlessly onto the ground, not a single shot managing to so much as glance any of the giants.

Unable to watch any longer, Darcy hurried forward. "Lady Freya!" she yelled. "Lady Freya, I must speak with you."

The red-haired woman turned to survey Darcy imperiously, her icy blue eyes taking in her ill-fitting armor with disdain. "Well, what do you want?" she said coldly. "Perhaps it has escaped your notice, but we're at war, and I'm trying to defend this palace from destruction."

"How's that working out for you?" Darcy pointed out.

Freya's eyes flashed. "If you have a better plan, _mortal_," she hissed, "by all means, share it."

"I do," Darcy said hurriedly. "I need to know where Loki's chambers are."

Freya looked taken aback for a brief moment, but she quickly caught herself and arched an eyebrow scornfully. "You don't know? I thought you of all the women in the palace ought to know where the Prince of Mischief sleeps."

Darcy blushed, but pressed on. "Just tell me where they are," she said.

Freya narrowed her eyes suspiciously, searching for some defect of Darcy's word choice or manner to comment on. Finding nothing, she rolled her eyes. "The South tower," she said flatly.

"Thank you," Darcy stammered.

As she left, she thought she heard Freya shout something behind her tauntingly, but she ignored it.

"Watch out for the booby traps."


	20. Puzzle

**Regarding certain aspects of this chapter, try to remember that Darcy is a normal human, and as such she will make pop culture references and comparisons sometimes. Also, keep in mind that Jotunheim is essentially a whole planet, and therefore would probably have millions if not billions of inhabitants, even accounting for the ones Loki killed. (Unlike Asgard which gave the impression of being far smaller—as in, small enough to be ruled by a single aristocratic family.)**

**This is NOT the cliffhanger chapter. But it's very close. Next one, I promise, will be the cliffhanger. As in The Cliffhanger.**

**Enjoy.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

Freya shook her head mournfully as she looked out over the field of frost giants who continued to bombard the front gates with their fists and clubs. "We can't keep this up," she murmured to Heimdall, who stood alongside her, a somber expression on his face. "The palace is not designed to defend against so many attackers at once. What are we going to do?"

"We will do what we must," he said evenly. "We will do whatever is necessary to protect the innocent."

Freya's eyes widened. "Surrender?" she said incredulously. Heimdall inclined his head slightly, his manner of nodding. Freya crossed her arms as if a sudden chill had come through the room. "No warrior in Asgard's history has ever surrendered in battle," she said, "it is unheard of. It is cowardly."

"Is it so cowardly to sacrifice one's pride, or that of a people, for the sake of protecting innocent lives? I think it would be cowardice not to."

Freya bit her lip. "You're right," she said, resigned. "I shall make the announcement." She turned on her heel to leave, her lovely eyes brimming with tears, when Heimdall caught her by the shoulder.

"Listen," he said. Freya looked up as if searching for a noise.

The blare of a trumpet pierced the air. A shout went up throughout the palace.

"The Warriors have returned!"

"They've come to protect us!"

"We're saved!"

Freya nearly collapsed against the wall in relief. "Thank the All-Father," she said, shaking. "Hope is not lost."

"Hope?" Heimdall said. "No. We have regained that much. But victory is another matter, and far more uncertain. We will need more than our small army of capable warriors to defeat so many jotun. We need luck."

* * *

><p>It seemed as if an hour had passed by the time Darcy reached the top of the spiral stairs to Loki's chambers. She clutched her side as she gasped to catch her breath, mind racing. Now that she thought about it, she <em>had<em> taken an inordinate amount of time climbing the stairs, and not for lack of speed. She had been running as fast as she could the whole way without stumbling. How long could the staircase have been? She glanced over her shoulder and gasped.

The base of the stairs was scarcely twenty feet away.

She blinked, and took off her glasses to rub them frantically against her cloak. She put them back on her nose clumsily.

Darcy was looking directly at a smooth wall of black marble only inches from her face. The stairs were gone.

She let out a little squeak of terror, bracing herself against the wall for support. The moment her fingers touched the smooth stone, ropes shot out of nowhere and bound her wrists to the wall. She struggled frantically; the ropes tightened as she fought, wriggling like snakes. As she watched, one of the cords split itself in two, the newly freed section of rope springing to life and enfolding her waist like a boa constrictor.

She closed her eyes, shaking uncontrollably. She could feel her skin freezing, but somehow her stomach burned. She felt like she wanted to throw up but couldn't. _They're snakes. Snakes everywhere. Snakes clutching at her wrists, her arms. Snakes crawling in her ears._ She screamed; something was crawling underneath her skin, wriggling down her spine into her veins, into her nerves. They were _everywhere_…around her wrists, under her skin, inside her mind, reading her thoughts, around her waist…

_On a plane_. Out of nowhere, Darcy found herself giggling. Somehow, though her heart was pounding an off-kilter taiko solo against her ribcage, though every fiber of her body was spasming from the invasion under her skin, she started laughing hysterically. She realized that she was going to die here, but it was okay, because she was going to do it smiling, with Samuel L. Jackson screaming in her head about motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, Darcy was free. She fell to her knees, shivering slightly, her skin still cold and clammy, her fit of hilarity abruptly vanished. As she breathed deeply through gritted teeth she realized that she had not breathed since the ropes had grabbed her. She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of being able to simply take in air without fear.

"How peculiar."

Darcy jumped, and she lost her kneeling balance. The moment she fell, her euphoria vanished. She suddenly remembered where she was, what she was doing here. She stared down at the floor where the voice had come from to find a pair of black boots. She looked up.

Loki stood over her…but it was not Loki.

His cheekbones jutted out more than they should on his pale face, his eyes hooded with lowered eyelids and long lashes. His eyes stung at her like green chips of ice. She shivered. He looked different, wrong somehow. He seemed _hungry_ for something. Hollow.

He smiled sardonically at her silent gaping, but his eyes failed to light up with even a hint of humor. It was a perfunctory smile, meant to intimidate. "Pray tell, who are you, and why do you seek entrance to my chambers?" he whispered. His voice sent a shiver down her spine. She knew that voice. It was the one he used when he was trying to distract her.

"I…I'm Darcy," she stammered. "Darcy Lewis. Your…um…" She frowned. "I'm really not sure what we are, actually, we never really established that." Not-Loki blinked at her coldly. She prattled on thoughtlessly; anything to keep him talking, figure out what was going on. "I guess I'm your girlfriend, but we haven't really been on a date. And we haven't slept together. But we've, like, made out once or twice. That, uh…" Not-Loki's smile was growing with every word, evolving into something animal, like she was prey and he was a panther watching, deciding whether or not she was worth the trouble. "That counts," she finished awkwardly. "I think."

"Well," Not-Loki replied, "_Darcy Lewis_, that is a very interesting story you have just told me. And if a situation ever came about where it would suit my purposes to have a mortal plaything, choosing you does not sound repulsive." Darcy's stomach knotted. She couldn't understand it. He should have been irresistible to her, like Loki always was…but something was wrong. It was a bizarre feeling; she couldn't explain it, she couldn't pin it down, but he was different. It was almost like watching the General's facial expressions play out on a handsome face, listening to his words spoken in an alluring, hypnotic voice.

"W-who are you?" Darcy stammered hesitantly. "You're not Loki, are you?"

Not-Loki laughed. "The pretty mortal can think," he said scornfully. "How disgustingly _adorable_." He stared at her, his lips quirking in a mocking gesture. "Who do _you_ think I am?"

She swallowed, turning her chin up in the best attempt at defiance that she could muster. "I think you're a _what_," she said, shaking. "You look almost exactly like Loki, you have his voice, but you aren't him. You don't act like him. You're strange to me. It's like…" She paused. "It's like you're a doppelganger."

Not-Loki narrowed his eyes at her. "My goodness," he said condescendingly, "you _are_ a clever one, aren't you?" Darcy stared at him dumbly. Not-Loki put his hands out with a flourish. "I am a doppelganger," Not-Loki said, "or something close to it. I am an enchantment. I am the embodiment of Loki's personality, appearance, and mannerisms as they appeared when he performed the enchantment. I know everything that he did. I behave as he would. But I have no feelings. Only instincts and his commands which I obey."

"Commands, such as?" Darcy supplied.

Not-Loki smiled mysteriously. "You will see." And then, with a cry of hysterical laughter that would make a vaudevillian villain quake in his boots, he vanished, and everything went dark.

* * *

><p>Sif wiped the sweat from her brow as she withdrew her sword from another hapless giant, scarcely catching her breath before moving on to the next opponent. She let out a ferocious battle cry. Before the newly slain giant touched the ground, Sif was sprinting forward.<p>

She found herself fighting back-to-back with Fandral, who was fending off an unusually clever jotun with obvious difficulty.

"Why," he gasped, "won't—you—die?"

"Maybe because you haven't killed him yet," Sif snapped, feet dancing in tandem with Fandral's as they turned on the spot, each fighting their own battle.

"I was being rhetorical, damn it!" he yelled. "Now will you please either be silent or help me?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed Fandral aside. With one deft slice, she stabbed the giant through the heart. As he fell towards her, she guided his spear under her arm to slay her own opponent.

Both giants eliminated, she took back her sword from the chest of the first giant. Fandral gaped at her.

"We'll have plenty of time to catch flies later," she said. "Now get your jaw off the floor and fight."

* * *

><p>Thor made to stride forward, but Loki caught his arm firmly. "Brother," he hissed. "I don't think now is the time for you to attempt to learn diplomacy."<p>

"The last I checked, I was in command," Thor said. "I was under the impression that the giants had a bit of a grudge against you."

"Yes, but they're not exactly best friends with you either," Loki pointed out.

Thor ignored his brother, shaking his hand away as he approached the front lines of the jotun army where the General stood waiting.

"Ah," he growled, smiling wolfishly. "So glad to see that you could join my little party."

"General Orðin," Thor said. He glanced around. "I hesitate to call this a party."

"Well, it may not be the sort of grand feast you are used to, but I assure you it is a party in its own right." He sneered, tilting his head. "My people have a word for this sort of party: a bloodbath."

The canyon shook with thunderous laughter. Thor smiled politely.

The General held up a hand for silence. "Enough!" he bellowed. "Enough merriment," he said in a low voice. "Let us settle the matter for which we came here. General Thor, I order you to surrender."

Thor glared at him. "Consider your order disobeyed," he countered.

The General laughed. "My friend," he said, "this is not a matter of choice. This is a matter of no alternative for you and your people." He reached into his cloak. "Observe." He held up a small lens so that the light shone through from his soldiers' torches. "Ysrad," he roared. The Aesir looked on in horror as the lens burned bright and opalescent before shifting into a myriad of horrifying images.

Asgard was over-run. As far as the eye could see, extending beyond the edges of the lens' view, a sea of blue giants churned, bright flashes of metal catching the sunlight in paths that were destined to end with bloodshed. Loki could barely make out the Asgardian army among the chaos; Sif was the tiny black dot dancing among the sea of blue with the most ease, leaving a faintly visible trail of red in her wake as she slayed jotun. The other warriors were indistinguishable, faceless Aesir too distant for recognition.

The picture vanished. Thor was silent, staring blankly at the place where the lens had been moments before. His thoughts were written clearly on his face: _the children, Frigga, Jane_.

The General read Thor's reaction correctly, smirking slightly. "I see that even the warrior prince is cowed," he said. "He wonders, how much is he willing to give to save the ones he loves?"

Thor gritted his teeth. "What do you want?" he asked stiffly.

"An end to this war right now, without any more bloodshed, on the condition that you and your people surrender unconditionally."

"No," Thor said harshly.

The General grinned, baring yellow teeth. "Yes, Odinson. I think unconditional surrender sounds like an entirely reasonable proposal from my perspective." He narrowed his eyes in mock-thought. "Of course, if the crime which started this conflict were punished, I would be willing to leave you your pathetic realm." He paused for effect. "Return the mortal known as Darcy to Jotunheim, never to leave again, and I will end this conflict."

* * *

><p>Darcy screamed until her throat felt like it was going to tear open, but she still couldn't hear a sound. For that matter, she couldn't hear, or smell, or taste, or feel anything. She had no perception of space, of temperature, of time—it was as though she were a disjointed mind, a spirit without a body, suspended in a void, in some eternal vacuum that was infinite yet nonexistent at the same time.<p>

It made her mind ache just to think about it. But she had to think. If she didn't think, there would be nothing left. She would go mad. Her stream of thought was the last remaining thread between life and death, chaining her to existence. If she stopped thinking, she would cease to be.

_Got to get out…got to get out…save Asgard…save children…save Jane…where's Loki? Where are the warriors? Are they alive? Are they hurt? Are they coming back? Did Loki betray them again? Oh God, oh God, oh God, he did. That's why he's gone. He betrayed us. It was his plan all along. It was a game. He's the chess master. I'm a pawn. A puppet on a string. A pawn. And he made me think I was a queen. I don't want to be a pawn. I don't want to be a queen either. I don't want to play this game. I want to be real. I want to be myself._

_I have to get out of here to stop Loki._

_What am I thinking? This is Loki I'm thinking about._

_Loki the Liar._

_No, stop it. You're spinning. This isn't real. Nobody is betraying anyone._

_Denial. Denial. Denial. Denial. Denial._

_Shut up!_

_Loki the liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar._

_Leave me alone. I don't want to hear this._

_You know it's true._

_No. He kissed me. Kisses can't lie._

_Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar._

_I could feel it. He wasn't lying._

_Denial. Denial. Denial._

Darcy's head pounded as though she were grinding her teeth, screwing her eyes shut. Before she realized what she was doing, she was opening her mouth, her lips forming words, her lungs exploding in a final, defiant blaze, unwilling to be silenced.

"STOP!"

She landed on the cold floor in a heap, out of breath once again. She lay still for a moment, enjoying the ability to _feel_ again. Her armor was uncomfortable. Her skin was feverish. The cool stone felt nice against her flaming cheeks.

"Have you given up, then?"

She could hear. It was a blessing and a curse. On one hand, she was relieved that the first voice she heard was Loki's melodic speech…but on the other hand, it wasn't him. It sent little shivers down her spine, but they weren't the warm, velvety shivers that made her feel like she was going to melt into a little heap, grinning like an idiot. They were cold shivers. Snake-crawling shivers. Eyes on the back of her head shivers. Jotun shivers.

She glared up at the speaker, past black boots and a sweeping cloak to meet Loki's cold green eyes.

"No," she said fiercely, "I haven't given up. And I won't give up until I get what I need, until you let me into Loki's chambers."

Not-Loki lost his sarcastic smile, glaring down at Darcy coolly. "Very well," he hissed. He waved a hand, and Darcy felt as though she were being pushed and pulled to her feet by a multitude of hands, moving like waves up her arms and legs to force her from the ground.

She swayed on her feet, glowering at Not-Loki. "You could have told me to stand."

"Yes," Not-Loki replied smoothly, "but it's so much more fun to toy with you, Darcy Lewis. You're so easily riled up, by the strangest of things, I might add. You're a very unusual mortal. But that will just make my capture of you more entertaining, won't it?"

"What do you mean, capture?" Darcy tried not to let her fear show. She couldn't be stranded here in the tower with this Loki doppelganger forever. She had to get back; she had to help the others.

"I mean _capture_, silly girl," Not-Loki drawled. "As in, seizure. Detention. Imprisonment. In choosing not to surrender and leave this tower, you have chosen a dangerous path. If you fail to pass my last test, you will remain with me here, to do with as I please until my creator returns." He smiled. "And like my creator, I can be quite a sadist when I choose to be."

"If I pass the test?"

Not-Loki put his hands up. "Then you, mortal, are permitted entry to Loki's chambers, to do what you wish therein. Although I warn you not to try and steal anything. He is quite inventive with his spellcraft, and I daresay the effects of his protective enchantments on some of his belongings would be quite severe."

"I'm not a thief," Darcy snapped. "Not usually. Give me the test."

Not-Loki laughed. "Impatient, aren't you, Darcy Lewis?"

Her only reply was a cold stare.

"Well, if you insist, I shall oblige." He licked his lips. "The final test is a puzzle. Solve it, and you may pass. Guess incorrectly, and you remain with me. Loki, _generous_ man that he is, has deigned to be merciful in this instance and allow me to give you one hint to help you solve the riddle. To ask for the hint, you must say using these words exactly: 'I request the hint.' Do you understand?"

Darcy nodded, closing her eyes in preparation.

"Here is my riddle:

"What seldom sleeps

But often lies?

What comes and goes

But never dies?

The web Edmund spun

Around the King Lear

The tales Iago told

To play Othello's fears

Were selfish means

To noble ends

Their goals far more dear

Than trust between friends

When all else has failed,

I am the key

To get what you want

You have to have me

As to my size,

I am nine wide

And if you should slice me

Four ways I'd divide

What am I?"

Darcy bit her lip. "I request the hint," she said quietly.

"There isn't one."

Darcy's eyes widened. "What?"

Not-Loki shrugged. "There is no hint."

Darcy lunged at Not-Loki furiously, curling her hands into fists. "You bastard! You…" She froze in mid-swing, her fist scarcely an inch from the doppelganger's face. _Seldom sleeps but often __**lies**_. "You liar," she whispered. _Nine wide…four ways I'd divide…_She thought fervently for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought as she racked her brain for the solution. She smiled triumphantly. "I know what the answer is."

"Then speak it, mortal."

"Mendacity."

With a sound like a lion's roar, Not-Loki stopped dead in his tracks. His face flickered for a moment…first fearful, then ecstatic, then horrified, and finally…sad.

And then he was gone.

Darcy looked around, and was taken aback. There was the staircase, right behind her, not two feet away: spiraling and utterly ordinary. And before her was a door. A simple door with no handle made of the same black stone as the walls around it.

She reached out hesitantly, and touched it.

Without so much as a creak, the door swung open at her touch. Darcy paused before she stepped over the threshold, glancing over her shoulder once more, half-expecting something else to leap out at her.

But nothing was there. And Darcy had the strangest nagging thought…what if it was all in her head?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>**Reviews are love. Keep them coming. Seriously, I get all excited and epic music starts playing in my head when I see that I have more than 100 reviews. Okay, there's ALWAYS epic music playing in my head, because I used to want to be a film composer, but that's beside the point.**


	21. Choice

**AN: The final scene in this chapter was written to the track "Watch the World Burn" by Hans Zimmer. Highly recommend it.**

**For those of you reading this chapter the instant I publish it, the next chapter should be posted within the hour. **

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

"C'mon...c'mon...I know you read," Darcy muttered under her breath. "There's gotta be books somewhere." She turned on her heel, glancing around the room for any hint of disarray, the hint of a hiding place. Nothing.

_Of course you didn't find anything,_ she scolded herself. _He's the god of mischief and trickery. He's good at hiding things._

She groaned aloud and threw herself backwards onto the huge bed, the only sign that Loki's Spartan room was even a bedroom at all. She sank into the fluffy mattress dejectedly with a thudding sound. The bronze-colored blankets threatened to swallow her whole. She tried not to close her eyes; she was mentally and physically exhausted from the day's events. At the moment, nothing sounded more welcoming or pleasant than sleeping in a cocoon of Loki-scented sheets. She froze.

_Wait a second_.

She sat up quickly, throwing her arms out for balance as she wobbled on the plushy blankets. Soft things didn't "thud." They made muffled, gentle noises. When she had landed on the bed, it had made a sharp sound, like a heavy object being dropped onto a wood floor. Like there was something hard underneath the blankets.

Darcy slid off the bed like it was on fire and started pushing against the bottom of the mattress like a madwoman, straining against the weight, her fingers fumbling on the rounded corners. She scrunched her face up with the exertion. _Why did I take Survey of Dance for PE credits instead of Weight Lifting? Stupid, stupid, stupid. _Abruptly she realized that if she had told herself six months prior that she should take Weight Lifting so she could single-handedly lift a mattress while wearing really ridiculous armor so she could find spell-books that belonged to her gorgeous maybe-boyfriend to save a castle full of gods against an army of very angry ice-Smurfs, she would have called Campus Security. Even now, it was a bit much to take in.

She pursed her lips and leaned against the mattress with all her weight. She knew that they weren't light, but she hadn't thought they would be quite so heavy. In TV shows and movies, characters flipped over mattresses to find drugs and porn stashes with one arm. She couldn't even move it with all of her weight. What the hell did gods make bedding out of?

Maybe she was trying to lift more than a mattress.

Darcy's fingers scrabbled with the edge of her boot. After a few seconds of struggle, she managed to slip her hand between the leather and her socks. Her fingertips brushed cold metal. She smiled as she withdrew the dagger, angling it slightly so the blade wouldn't slice her leg open. She _knew_ that a knife would come in handy.

In one stroke, she slit the mattress open. The fabric flaps lay still for an instant before yawning wide-revealing a trove of books in colors and languages that Darcy had never seen before.

She blindly reached for the first book in English and started flipping through it like a madwoman. The words flew past her eyes faster than she could process them properly. She had to find a way to fight. She was running out of time.

* * *

><p>"Watch yourself!" Sif snarled as Volstagg narrowly avoided being turned to ice. Slaying the giant she dueled with a precision strike of her dagger, she glanced around, brushing the loose strands of black hair away from her face.<p>

Hogun was holding his own against a pair of smaller giants, ducking their clumsy blows without much difficulty. Volstagg was running off, using his sword more like a club than a claymore as he ploughed over a small band of giants like a battering ram. Nearly half of the jotun had been killed, but beside them lay many of the Asgardian warriors, fallen in the chaos.

Sif's stomach dropped as she realized that Fandral was nowhere to be seen. She began searching the faces of the dead, hoping silently that she didn't find him there.

"SIF!"

She spun on her heel at the sound of his anguished roar—only to realize that his horrified expression and wide eyes were not for his own sake, but for hers.

She gasped quietly as a jotun arrow grazed her shoulder. She took a shuddering breath to steady herself and raised her sword over her head to destroy the giant that had fired at her. No sooner had she lifted her arms than a second arrow found its mark just under her breastbone. She fell to her knees in surprise, trying to regain her breath from the shock.

"AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!"

As she curled her hands into fists, clawing at the dirt for something to hold on to, to make the pain go away, Fandral bounded forward and began attacking the jotun archer with manic ferocity. He was practically unrecognizable, his usually cheerful expression distorted with rage as he destroyed the archer, and all of the other giants in arms' reach.

He didn't hesitate to watch his opponents fall. Before the last of his foes had touched the ground, he was racing towards Sif.

"Sif, are you alright? Can you breathe? Will you live?" he stammered.

Sif scowled, gritting her teeth against the pain. "Fandral, it's just an arrow," she grumbled.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't see him until it was too late," Fandral said, pulling Sif towards him into a hug. She froze. _What? _"I should have protected you. Please don't die, please, please, live!"

"Fandral, I'm fine," she said flatly.

"Sif…I just want you to know, if we live through this—"

"We're not going to live through this if you sit around blubbering about your feelings," Sif snapped. "I'm fine."

Fandral leaned towards her, eyes closed.

"FANDRAL!" she yelled.

He opened his eyes, lips still puckered awkwardly. "This is a bad time, isn't it?"

"You think?" she deadpanned, pushing him away. She grunted softly as she yanked the arrow out of her shoulder. Fandral winced. "This isn't working," she said, snapping the arrow over her knee. "We're outnumbered four to one. We need a plan."

"We need a miracle, more like it," Fandral muttered grumpily, brushing the dirt from his armor and still blushing furiously.

A shrill yell thundered across the battleground.

Sif frowned. "That's not an Aesir voice."

Fandral craned his head over the carnage towards the source of the sound. His eyes widened. "By the Valkyries…" he murmured.

Sif followed his gaze, her jaw dropping. "Oh no…I thought Loki told her to _stay in the castle_!"

* * *

><p>Darcy raced across the battlefield on stony horseback, her marble stallion sending cracks shooting across the ground with every heavy step. She grinned widely as her hair whipped in the wind, watching her handiwork spread across the battlefield like wildfire. "Yeah!" she screamed. "Fuck yeah!"<p>

She looked on, laughing, as jotun after jotun turned to look at her with a startled expression, only to look down and panic as they realized they were under attack...from weeds. Darcy waved her hand, and the green tendrils began to grow thicker and faster, wrapping every giant she passed in a plant cocoon.

She frowned. She felt very tired all of a sudden, like she had just gotten over a nasty bout of the flu. If she hadn't been sitting on the back of a horse, her knees would have given out.

"Darcy!"

She glanced around, searching for the female voice shouting at her. She turned to see Sif sprinting alongside her, dark hair streaming in the wind.

"Darcy, stop! You don't know what you're doing!" she screamed furiously.

"I know exactly what I'm doing!" Darcy yelled back, grinning. "I'm saving your asses from the Frost Giants."

"You don't understand!" Sif panted. She stumbled for a moment, and had to run doubly fast to catch up again with Darcy's horse. "You have to stop! Those spells aren't meant for mortals!"

"What do you mean? It was in the book. I did what it said, and it's working! Look!" She pointed as a mass of roots sprang up from the ground and dragged a giant down as it tunneled back into the earth. "I even got one of the garden statues to animate."

"Stop! Darcy, I'm ordering you! If you don't stop it now, you're going to die!"

She froze, pulling up on the reins. "What?" she yelled. _Oh shit._ The horse stopped short, momentum sending Darcy flying over the top. She flicked her wrist frantically. Just in time, a shrub with feathery leaves sprouted out of the ground. She landed softly, crushing the plant in the process. She stood up sharply, brushing herself off. "What do you mean—whoa—" She wobbled and fell backwards onto the shrub as a wave of lightheadedness came over her, her legs collapsing under her own weight.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Sif said breathlessly, gesturing at Darcy's weakness. "Using magic saps energy from the person performing the spell. Life energy. Gods are practically immortal; we only die if we're killed in battle or when we are incredibly old. Mortals aren't. If you had kept up that magic much longer, you'd be dead right now."

Darcy's lip quivered. She felt very foolish all of a sudden, not to mention _miserably_ sick—something which always made her feel prone to crying for some strange reason. "I'm sorry," she said in a shaky voice.

Sif made an irritated noise with her tongue. "Ugh. I can't just leave you out here in the battlefield." Before Darcy could protest, she bent down and scooped the girl up over her uninjured shoulder. "I'm taking you back to the palace where you belong. Frigga will patch you up. She can probably find a potion that'll get your strength back." She glared at Darcy. "And I don't care how much you've healed, or how wonderful you're feeling, don't come back out again. That's an order."

"I was trying to help," Darcy said faintly.

Sif grimaced sadly. "It was a good plan," she admitted. "It would have been perfect, if you were an Aesir. But it looks like we're going to need something better if we're going to live through this." She glanced out over the horizon as she trudged back towards the castle, through the ranks of Asgardian troops defending the front gate. "Where is Thor?" she muttered. "He should be back by now."

* * *

><p>"I…" Thor stammered. "I cannot."<p>

"It is unavoidable," the General said. "You have no choice."

Thor's eyes turned glassy as he considered, visibly anguished.

Loki's heart pounded against his ribcage as he watched the expressions play across Thor's face; he could practically narrate what his brother was thinking at each given moment: first denial of the situation, then heartache for Darcy, who was like a sister to Jane and by extension, himself, then fury at the General for putting him in this position…and then resignation, as obedience to his sense of duty took over.

In that instant, Loki knew what he had to do.

"No," he said solemnly, his solitary voice echoing in the canyon. "You're wrong. There is a choice." He stepped forward, setting his lips into a thin line and staring at the General intently. "There is another way we could make reparations."

Thor's eyes darted between Loki and the General. "What are you talking about?" He lowered his voice so that only Loki could hear. "This is no time for one of your tricks, brother."

"No tricks," Loki said. He turned to look at Thor coolly, afraid that if he let his emotions show, his nerve would give out. "When I first came to Jotunheim, to bargain for the General's blood, there was another choice."

Thor's eyes widened. He stepped back from Loki in horror. "No," he burst out.

"Yes," the General jeered.

Thor shook his head, choking on tears that he would not show in front of the jotun. "I will not let you, brother. You cannot do this."

"I have to," Loki said quietly. "What other choice is there? You cannot condemn our people to enslavement by the jotun. And I cannot let you give away Darcy. She is an innocent young woman whose only crime was innocence, and more to the point, I love her." He shook his head. "I have done a great many wicked things, Thor, and they all weigh upon my conscience in their own way. No more. No more shall I live a villain. I will die a hero."

Thor stared at him for a moment, eyes brimming with tears. Without warning, he lurched forward and held his brother in a tight embrace. Loki grimaced and patted him on the back awkwardly. As they broke apart, Loki turned to Odin.

"Goodbye, father." He turned to stride towards the General.

"Son…" Loki turned around. Odin looked at him gravely. "Loki. I am proud to be your father. And I am proud to call you my son."

Loki didn't say anything. He merely nodded, his eyes turning steely as he braced himself to meet his demise.

"General, isn't there another way?" Thor said suddenly.

"Thor," Loki said calmly. "It's alright." He smiled crookedly. "Think of it as my final act of mischief: defying my destiny as the evil one. I'd say defying destiny is about as mischievous as it gets."

He looked the General in the eye. "I am ready," he said.

The General's eyes glinted. "And I have been ready for a long time," he hissed. He stepped forward, drawing a dagger from his sheath. "Any last words, _trickster_?"

"Thor," Loki said suddenly, "tell Darcy…" He paused. "Tell her to smile." He closed his eyes, smiling as memories flooded his mind. "She has a beautiful smile."

"How touching," the General sneered. "A sentimental man might even have mercy and let you live to see your love's smile one more time." He stopped right in front of Loki. "But I am not a man. I am a jotun. Cold and stony-hearted."

Loki kept his eyes closed calmly, trying to imagine Darcy's face one last time. All at once, her blue eyes danced before him, her dark hair whipping around in the breeze as she laughed. He watched as a strand of hair caught itself in the wind and blew away, dark and shining in the light.

A sudden stab of pain seared him, cold and then burning hot, deep in his stomach. His eyes snapped open instinctively. He looked down and saw the scarlet spreading through his coat, darkening it…tainting the snow in tiny droplets of shock and agony. Yet somehow, as he felt himself falling to the ground distantly, all he could see was the image in his mind, of Darcy's hair dancing in the wind.


	22. Sunset

**Soundtrack to this chapter: "Dumbledore's Farewell" by Nicholas Hooper and "Corynorhinus" by Hans Zimmer.**

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

"Sif! Lady Sif!"

She looked up from Darcy's bedside immediately as a soldier hurried into the Great Hall, panting.

"What is it?" she demanded. "What's wrong?"

The soldier put his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Sif's heart pounded. _We've lost. Or else one of the Warriors has been killed. Oh no..._

The soldier smiled broadly. "It's over, milady. The...the jotun are retreating. We heard the blast of the horn, and they all turned around to return the way they came. Fandral sent me tell you. They were saying something about a portal when I left."

Sif's eyes flashed. "Thor," she said tersely. "He must have negotiated something with the giants."

"They're coming back?" Darcy said, sitting up abruptly.

"No...Darcy, you need to lie down," Sif said warningly, pushing her back into the bed, "you're going to wear yourself out again if you get up too soon."

"Then I'll just drink another potion later," Darcy said breathlessly, struggling to break past Sif's arms. "Please," she said, pouting. "I want to see them."

Sif made a "tcha" of annoyance. "Why you want to see his smug face so badly is beyond me," she said flatly. But she let go of Darcy, grimacing as the girl dashed from the room. It was too simple, she thought to herself. The war couldn't have ended so easily, from mere hours of negotiation. Bracing herself for whatever she found when she rejoined the troops, she left the room stiffly.

* * *

><p>The General cast his dagger aside with disgust. It hit the wall with a thunderous crack, and a shimmering portal appeared in its place.<p>

"Take him and go," the General snarled. "Get him out of my sight."

Thor didn't respond. He stared blankly at the ground for a long moment, his eyes fixed on Loki's body. _He was gone. This time, there was no doubt. He was gone. Forever. Lifeless. Dead._ He distantly felt a hand on his shoulder, and realized that tears were streaming down his face. He turned to look at his father, more anguished than he had ever seen him before.

"Thor," he said quietly, "come. We must go."

Thor shook his head, protesting incoherently. Odin's eyes turned steely as he turned Thor to look him in the eye. "Thor," he said firmly. "We cannot stay here. We must return to Asgard."

Thor's face contorted with rage as he spun on his heel to the General. "You monster!" he roared. "You vile, horrid animal, look what you have done!"

"Leave now," the General snapped, "or I shall seal the portal and you will be forced to remain here, leaving the body to freeze into the canyon. I suggest you run along. My hospitality and my patience are beginning to wear thin."

Thor glared at him, every fiber of his being burning with anguished fury. After a parting glower, his face softened. He bent down to scoop up Loki's body in his arms. He felt his eyes tearing up with newfound fervor, and he began to weep silently as he stood and carried his brother towards the portal.

Odin followed in his wake, looking somber.

"Farewell, Odin," jeered the General.

Odin stopped for a moment, as if considering a reply. Gritting his teeth, he followed his two sons through the portal, as his heart tore open along the chasm that had only just healed. Loki was gone again. And this time, he knew for sure: Loki was dead.

* * *

><p>The sun was setting as Jane and Darcy ran to greet the returning heroes.<p>

Darcy suppressed a smile. She could already imagine the things that Loki was going to say when she told him about the spells she had cast-not to mention the fact that she had broken into his room. She tried not to giggle as she evisioned the look on his face when he saw that his mattress had been slit open.

Jane skidded to a stop at the front doors thrown open at the front of the palace, smiling. "Thor!" she shouted joyfully, picking up the hem of her skirt and hurrying down the stairs towards him. And then…she saw his face, downcast and tearful. Her eyes widened. "Oh no…"

Darcy walked through the door slowly, unable to run as her exhaustion finally caught up with her. She saw Jane's face and her smile faded. Her eyes found Thor, and shot immediately to his arms.

"No!" she whispered, stumbling forward. She clapped her hands to her face, instinctively trying to hold back the wails and tears that threatened to burst forth. "Oh God, Loki, no!" she screamed.

Jane's lip quivered. She went to Darcy, her own eyes brimming with tears as she put an arm around the girl. "Shh," she said quietly, stroking her hair.

Darcy burst into tears, burying her face in Jane's shoulder. She didn't even care that she was getting tears all over Jane's dress. She had to get his agony out. It felt like someone had reached inside of her and torn something away, leaving a gaping, burning hole where her heart had been, leaving something in its place: pain. She felt like she was burning and freezing at the same time. And heavy. She was so heavy. She was going to sink into the ground and keep sinking until she hit the core of the planet. It was the sensation of falling, like climbing the stairs in the dark, and expecting one more step, except instead of crashing to the ground, she kept falling, plummetting through the air, her stomach knotting and doing sommersaults.

"This isn't real," she blubbered, choking on her desperate attempts to breathe. She felt like she was drowning. "This is another mind game. It has to be. THIS CAN'T BE REAL!" Before Jane could stop her, she broke free of her embrace and staggered down the stairs, practically hanging off the railing for support. At the base of the stairs, she stumbled forward a few helpless steps and threw her arms around Thor, trying to get closer to Loki's now lifeless body. Thor, understanding, lowered him to the ground gently, his own cheeks soaked with tears as he cried silently. Jane came to stand beside him, and he leaned into her, holding her as he wept. Odin put a hand on Thor's shoulder, not crying, just looking on with sorrow in his eyes.

Darcy knelt beside Loki's body, still struggling to breathe through her tears as she looked at him: his skin even paler than normal, his eyes closed as if to suggest that he were merely sleeping. "Damn it, Loki! Damn it! You promised me you'd come back! YOU PROMISED!" Her voice cracked in an angry, hollow scream, shocking the others from their tears for a moment. And then she couldn't speak anymore. She broke into wordless sobs, collapsing into a heap on Loki's chest, her hands gripping his shoulders desperately as she held him, unable to comprehend how he could possibly be gone forever.

She cried for what felt like hours, though it may have been only minutes. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, her tears began to subside. She couldn't cry anymore. Her tears had simply run out.

Thor cleared his throat quietly. "He," he said thickly, "he said before he died that he wanted you to smile. He said that you have a beautiful smile."

Darcy shook her head, letting out a choking sob that was so far gone it bordered on a laugh. "How could I smile?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "He's dead. He's gone. Forever." But through her tears, she forced a smile, biting her lip to hold back a whimper. He was still so beautiful. She kept expecting his eyes to open, his little angelic smile to turn crooked and mischievous, but his face remained impassive to her tears. "You promised," she breathed. She buried her face in Loki's chest as she was overcome by a new wave of tears.

Suddenly, as she lay there, she felt something against her cheek. A bump. Not a ridge in his chest, but a bump. Like a baby kicking from inside a mother's womb…like a heartbeat.

"Never…broke…my…promise."

Darcy's stomach dropped. She raised her head from Loki's chest with a gasp, her mind reeling. She half-expected to meet bright green eyes sparkling with mischief, but his eyes remained closed. She wondered for a moment if it was just her mind playing tricks on her again. Her heart clenched in wretched disappointment. But then, miraculously, slowly, she felt another heartbeat.

"Never…said…I'd come back alive," he whispered hoarsely. "Only…that…I'd come back."

Her eyes widened. She traced his cheekbones gently, her heart beginning to pound as his eyelids slid open, his jade green eyes peering up at her sleepily. "Loki?" she murmured breathlessly. His only response was a blink and a small half-smile. She kissed him fiercely. She felt him freeze in surprise, and then his lips yielded to her, his eyes fluttering slightly, his heart beginning to hammer against his chest as it had before. His fingers found the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair and holding her close. _He promised. _And all at once, she was furious. They broke apart.

She slapped him.

"OW!" he said sharply, more from shock than from pain, rubbing his cheek in bewilderment. "Why did you do that? It's bad enough that I've been dead for an hour without you hitting me!"

Darcy pounded her fists against his armor angrily, her weak blows bouncing off his chest like rain. She squeezed her words in between hits. "You...son...of...a...bitch!" Her knees gave out, and she couldn't remain upright to vent her fury on him anymore. She collapsed weakly on top of him, shaking with something between weeping and hysterical laughter.

Loki smoothed her hair out gently, confusion written all over his face. "Arf," he said half-heartedly. He frowned, glancing at Thor, who was smiling down at him like he couldn't believe his eyes. "Thor, not to take my daughter's name in vain, but..." He shook his head, exhaling sharply. "What the bloody hell just happened?"

"I think I have a theory as to the nature of your ressurection," Odin said, smiling. "But we'll have plenty of time for that later. First, I think we'd best get everyone cleaned up. You all look a bit weary from the day's events, understandably so."


	23. Bound

**If you haven't already, please take the poll on my profile regarding a possible sequel. Your opinion matters! I don't want to write a story that nobody will read. Alternately, if you don't have a FF account, just mention your preference in a review.**

**I'll make my final decision within the next few days—let's say by the time I publish the final chapter. I'll include an A.N. at the end of Chapter 24 telling all of you if I'm writing a sequel, and if so, what it is.  
><strong>

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

"You did _what_?"

Darcy giggled. She had never seen Loki's eyes go so wide, or his eyebrows furrowed in such an exaggerated way. "I broke into your room and memorized some of the spells in your books," she said cheerfully, sitting on his cot with a little bounce. "I brought one of the statues to life and I made the garden grow like crazy and attack the frost giants." She grinned, her eyes glazing over. "It was awesome."

"Suicidal, more like it," Loki sputtered. "Have you any idea how dangerous that was? You could have been killed."

"Yeah," Darcy said, her smile fading, "that was what Sif said when she saw what I was doing." Her eyes twinkled. "But, damn, you should have been there. It was literally the coolest thing I have ever done."

Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in what Darcy could only assume was the godly equivalent of a face-palm. He lowered his hand to look at her severely. "That still doesn't answer how you managed to get into my room."

"Oh, that," Darcy said breezily. "I just walked in the front door." Loki raised a skeptical eyebrow. She sighed. "Okay, first I got through the enchantments. But those weren't _that_ bad. It just kind of mind-raped me for a few minutes until I answered the riddle."

Loki laughed humorlessly. "Mind-rape sounds about right," he said flatly. "I designed those enchantments to test the limits of the humanoid mind, to force anyone who entered to face the darkest parts of their soul." He looked at Darcy with something between awe and suspicion. "You either cheated, or you managed to laugh in the face of fear, control your emotions to the point that you stopped a panic attack, _and_ answer a very complex riddle." He paused, frowning. "And you found my books."

"Laugh in the face of fear," Darcy said slowly. Her face lit up. "Of course. _That_ was what set me free. There were these snakes all over me, and a funny thought crossed my mind. I started giggling."

"Ah," Loki said softly. "So dumb luck." He gestured for her to continue. "And the second enchantment? The sensory deprivation and the panic hex?"

Darcy's face darkened. "That one was worse. I..." She bit her lip. "I started getting all these scary ideas stuck in my head. I thought that you had betrayed us all. I thought that you had been lying to me all along. But then I told my brain to be quiet. I reasoned my way out of that enchantment." She fell silent. Loki took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. Darcy gave him a little half-smile, and shook her head as if to brush away the memories. "I'm sorry. The second spell was...scary."

"What about the riddle?" Loki asked hurriedly. "How did you figure it out?"

She tilted her head. "It's funny," she said. "I can't really wrap my head around the idea, but...I think your doppelganger gave me a hint by _not_ giving me a hint. As if the fact that he lied about helping me _was_ the clue itself. But then...he wasn't lying, because he was actually giving me a hint..." She frowned. "Which means...?"

Loki laughed quietly. Darcy shot him a questioning look. He visibly fought to keep from smiling and failed miserably. "Sorry," he said, his lips twitching up at the corners in spite of his efforts. "You just make these weird little faces when you're thinking hard about something." He cleared his throat. "Please, go on."

She shook her head. "Oh, never mind. I don't think it can be explained, what I'm trying to understand."

"Yes, paradoxes can be quite _paradoxical_like that," he said dryly. Darcy snorted. "So the fact that my doppelganger lied to you made some synapse in your mind connect, I take it?" She nodded.

"I had to think for a minute or two for a word that had the right number of syllables and letters. I felt like I was reliving elementary school, trying to think of long words that I never used for spelling tests. Oh," she added sheepishly, "by the way, when I got the book out, I kind of ruined your bed."

Loki narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance. "Yes, well, it was bound to happen at some point," he said, raising his eyebrows sarcastically.

Before Darcy could process what he was suggesting, much less come up with a suitably snarky reply, they were interrupted by a soft throat-clearing at the doorway. Darcy turned to look, Loki craning his head from the pillows to see their visitor.

Odin walked towards them, smiling. "I am glad to see that you two are the only ones not out of the infirmary yet," he said pleasantly.

"Just him, actually," Darcy said. "I'm perfectly fine, sir."

"Excellent," said Odin. "Then I'm sure you will both be curious to hear what I have uncovered in the time since your return to the palace."

Loki sat up suddenly, wincing slightly as the bandages wrapped around his chest shifted. Darcy belatedly made to help him with a bracing hand on his back as he struggled to sit upright. "Have you discerned how it is that I survived, father?" he asked.

"Indeed." Odin waved his hand at a large wooden chair sitting by one of the other cots and it slid to Loki's bedside with a quiet sliding sound. He sat down in it and folded his hands as he leaned forward, as if to convey some wonderful secret without telling the room at large. He turned first to Darcy. "Lady Darcy, did Loki explain the nature of the Thrice Blood spell to you?"

She frowned. "Uh, yeah, a bit. Something about the bridge connecting three worlds with three different kinds of magic, and needing blood from three different realms. But I don't know how he did the spell, or how the magic works or anything..."

Odin held a hand up. "That's quite alright. Knowing the mechanics of magic is not necessary to understand this explanation. You seem to have a fairly good grasp of the basic principle." He turned to Loki. "I have discovered, after much reading and searching of old texts, that the Thrice Blood spell serves another purpose, beyond that of healing magical wounds."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "What purpose?" he said cautiously.

"Nothing dangerous," Odin amended quickly, "nothing of the sort. Indeed, the second purpose is precisely what saved your life." He looked back and forth between Loki and Darcy solemnly. "The Thrice Magic spell was the same enchantment originally used to create the Bifrost, as you know, but its purpose had nothing to do with healing whatsoever. Its original purpose was a spell of binding. It connected the three realms, with Asgard, as the source of the magic, in control of the Bifrost. Likewise," he continued, "the Thrice _Blood _spell..."

"Connects the three people," Loki murmured.

"Precisely." Darcy and Loki glanced at each other in unison; it was impossible to say which of them was more shocked-Darcy with her mouth hanging open, or Loki, eyebrows practically vanishing into his hairline, for once completely at a loss for words. "It seems that the two of you," Odin gestured between them, "are tied together by more than emotional attachment. As long as Darcy lives, you, Loki, cannot die."

"But I did die," Loki said sharply. "I must have. I stopped breathing. My heart stopped beating. I was unconscious from a few seconds after the General stabbed me until Darcy..."

"Touched you," she finished hesitantly. Her brow furrowed; Loki could practically see the thoughts swirling in her eyes as she replayed the events in her mind. "I put my hand over your heart, and a moment or two later it started beating again."

Odin stroked his beard, nodding. "Certain magic has been known to require physical contact to work," he said thoughtfully. "For instance, Midgardian lore tells of a half-giant who could not be killed whenever he came in contact with the earth, his mother, and though I do not know if that particular tale holds any truth, I know—as do you, Loki—that the Greek gods and goddesses do exist, and they are accounted for in the same set of myths. It is entirely feasible that the Thrice Blood spell would operate in the same manner as Gaia's enchantment upon her son."

"I hope it does," Darcy murmured fervently. Loki narrowed his eyes.

"What," he said, "were you planning on killing me at some point?"

"No," Darcy said, shaking her head. "Loki, think: who _else_ gave you blood?"

His face fell. "Damn. I didn't think of that." He grimaced. "Well, as long as I don't go touching the frosty bastard, I don't think that should be a problem."

"Quite apart from that," Odin interrupted, "the bond is not mutual. The spell was designed to give Asgard the ability to travel between the realms, but the inverse is not true. The jotun could not use the Bifrost to travel to Asgard." He frowned. "I'm afraid, Lady Darcy, that you are just as susceptible as any other mortal to death, as is the General. And, unfortunately, Loki, by extension, will die when you do."

Loki slumped against his pillows, suddenly looking drawn and paler than usual. Darcy grimaced. "Thank you, All-Father, sir. I, uh, think Loki needs to sleep on this a little bit."

"Of course," Odin said, smiling as he rose to his feet. "Returning from the dead is quite a lot to take in over the course of one conversation. Rest, my son. I imagine Thor would be highly displeased if you missed the feast in your honor."

The moment Odin left the room, Loki sat upright, all the weariness leaving his face. Darcy frowned. "What was that about?" she asked curiously as he rearranged his pillows so he was seated fully upright in the bed.

"I had to give him a reason to leave us alone for a few minutes," he explained. It may have been a trick of Darcy's imagination, but his words seemed to be coming out in a hurry, as if they were stumbling over each other in his rush to speak. He took Darcy's hands in his, and looked at her—_no, it couldn't be_, she thought to herself.

He looked nervous. _What the hell? He's never nervous. At least…he never shows it. What the fuck is he thinking that's got him so worked up?_

"This," he began, "this spell puts a bit of a new spin on our, uh, relationship. Our lives are bound to each other. It seems that I am not truly immortal anymore. I can only live as long as you do. And, as you probably understand, I want to live as long as possible."

Darcy nodded slowly, studying his face for some hint of where he was trying to go. "That makes sense," she said.

Loki licked his lips anxiously before speaking again. "There _is _a way for me to become truly immortal again," he said hesitantly. "It…involves _you_ becoming immortal." He chuckled dryly. "And, er, there's really only one way for a mortal to become…not mortal."

Darcy blinked, not understanding.

Loki sighed. "Marriage," he said. "When a god or goddess marries a mortal, the mortal becomes a god or a goddess as well." He met her eyes, and she saw that his eyes were the same, deep-green shade they had been after he kissed her for the first time. He looked almost childish, as if he were just as confused and innocent as her. "I'm asking you to marry me," he said, unnecessarily.

Darcy's head spun, her heart racing. _Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu—_

"I—" she stammered, "I—don't think I can. That…that's just not how we do it on Midgard anymore."

"Of course," Loki burst out. "I knew I was forgetting something." Wincing, he slid so that his legs hung off the edge of the cot, and tentatively lowered himself to the ground.

"What?" Darcy asked, baffled.

Loki held up a finger. "Hold on," he said, closing his eyes as if focusing very hard on something. "There we go," he said after a moment, removing his other hand from behind his back to reveal a small, green box. He shifted uncomfortably so that he was on one knee.

_Oh no…_

"Darcy Lewis," he said, his voice no longer shaking, but confident and much closer to its usual velvety tone, "will you marry me?"

She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry though her eyes began brimming with tears. It was beautiful—the look on his face, the utter sincerity in his eyes…the small band of white gold with tiny insets of opals. As she stared at it, she realized that the opals were the eyes to a pair of serpents, entwined in a delicate heart, kissing each other.

She closed her eyes. "I can't," she whispered softly. She couldn't open her eyes; she couldn't see the broken look that she knew would be flitting across Loki's face when she did. "I just…I don't know you that well," she said quietly. "It's not…No, that's wrong," she stammered, opening her eyes. "I _do_ know you. And…I'm pretty sure I love you. But it's all so new. We've only known each other for a few weeks. We've only been _together_ for two days, and even that isn't…it isn't really…official yet." She put her hand on Loki's cheek to comfort him. She felt like she was going to bawl at the adorably confused, hurt look on his face. "What I'm really trying to say is," she said hesitantly, "is not no. Just…not _yet_."

"Oh," he said, sighing. He seemed on the verge of collapsing with relief. "Yes," he said shakily, making the green box disappear with a flick of his finger as he pulled himself back up on to the bed. "That sounds…entirely reasonable. Of course. Most of the time we've known each other, I haven't even been courting you properly." He made a face. "I, er, apologize for putting you on the spot like that. I think I've rather made a fool of myself."

Darcy kissed him. When they broke apart, Darcy smiled broadly. "Can you make a fool of yourself more often? I think it's cute."

Loki sputtered, every hint of vulnerability vanishing from his face as it contorted into a disdainful scowl. "Cute?"

Darcy smiled innocently and stood up. "I should leave before you jinx me or turn me into something unnatural."

"Unnatural? A fluffy little bunny, more like it," Loki scoffed. As Darcy left the room, she thought she heard him muttering something to himself. "What _is_ it with mortal girls and their ability to turn gods so soft? Cute. Honestly…"


	24. Dance

**Music to the first part of the chapter: "Augie's Great Municipal Band." Second part: "Heartbeats" by Jose Gonzalez. **

**Without further ado, I give you the final chapter in "Mendacity."**

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR**

_One month later..._

The Great Hall was full to the brim with Aesir, all gathered to see their beloved prince married-and witness the transformation of a human into a goddess. The room was practically buzzing with unspoken gossip, everyone wondering if Thor's mortal would be a good queen someday, and what she would be the goddess of. An air of unexpressed eagerness hung over the room, infecting everyone with anticipation. The crowd remained respectfully quiet even as Thor's cape began to turn bright pink.

Darcy elbowed Loki sharply in the ribs. "Stop it," she muttered, grinning.

"Not until he catches on," he hissed. "Besides, I think the fuchsia is a good color on him."

Darcy barely managed to muffle her snort with a cough. An elderly goddess in a dress made of heavy fabric more suited to decorating castle walls than a body sniffed irritably, but in a display of martyr-like patience, refrained from glaring at the girl.

Darcy sighed disparagingly as Thor's cloak began changing texture as well as color so that sequins and feathers began sprouting out of the cloth. "Overkill," she sang out of the corner of her mouth.

"On the contrary. I don't think he looks quite festive enough. Should I make his armor v-neck or strapless?"

"You do realize that he's going to get back at you once he catches on."

"He's not going to catch on," Loki whispered. "Look at him. He looks even more like a wide-eyed schoolboy than Fandral did when he caught Sif bathing."

"When did that happen?" Darcy rolled her eyes. "Never mind. Later. You're trying to distract me."

"With little success, it seems."

"Loki, I really don't want my wedding night—whenever that may be—ruined by a revenge prank. Please change his cloak back."

"Well," Loki sighed sarcastically, "since you said 'please.'" With a discreet wave of his hand, Thor's attire turned back to its usual colors. Loki raised an eyebrow at Darcy. "You know, while I'm altering other peoples' clothing, I think your neckline could use a little trim."

"Don't even think about it. I swear, I'll…"

"You'll what, exactly?"

"I…I won't kiss you for a week."

"I'm positively quaking in my boots." He hesitated. "You wouldn't actually do that, would you?"

Darcy shot him a withering look and opened her mouth to reply.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife: Thor, God of Thunder, and Jane, Goddess of Truth and Reason."

Darcy immediately turned her attention to the front of the room and began to applaud like crazy as Jane and Thor kissed each other briefly. In spite of herself, she found her stomach doing strange little somersaults. _That might be me someday_...She thought distantly.

"Darcy..." Loki jerked his head briefly to the front of the room. She followed him awkwardly up the side aisle to get in position beside Thor, Jane, Frigga, and Odin for their exit. "You may want to break from the wedding party to get changed once we leave the hall," he murmured. "If you try to last the entire feast with those contraptions on your feet, I don't expect you'll be able to walk for months."

"I'll be fine. How bad could it be?"

-

As it turned out, it was very bad.

Darcy groaned quietly as she rolled her ankle around, trying to find an angle where her shoes weren't contorting the life out of her feet. Loki paused, goblet halfway to his lips, to give her a strange look.

"Damn shoes," she muttered under her breath, stooping down to adjust them so they crushed a different set of toes.

Loki shook his head as he sipped his drink. "You do realize that we will still be expected to dance as the maid of honor and best man?"

Darcy snorted. "Yeah, right," she said, laughing sarcastically. "That's not going to happen. I mean, unless you carry me and we dance like that." Loki's eyes lit up. Darcy froze. "Oh no. Loki, I was kidding. No, no, no..."

"Yes, yes, yes," Loki said, scooping her up in his arms, with a crooked smile. "You are going to dance, Darcy Lewis, and you are going to like it."

She scowled. Her cheeks burned scarlet as a little ripple of laughter went along the head table. She hid her face in Loki's chest as he began to sway on the spot, holding her in his arms. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'no means no?'" she mumbled.

"I have, but if my understanding is correct, the context of that expression has nothing to do with dancing. At least, not ballroom dancing. I suppose it could refer to _dancing_ depending on what euphemisms you prefer to use for—"

"You're a sorcerer," Darcy interrupted. "Couldn't you just cast a spell so my feet stop hurting so we can dance like normal people?"

"I could. But if my memory serves me correctly, I never did get back at you for making a fool of me in the infirmary."

"You made a fool of _yourself_."

"I warned you not to wear those shoes. I hardly think it's my problem if you should choose to ignore my advice and deal with the consequences."

"You're terrible."

"I think we've already established that."

They fell silent for a few moments. Loki made his way to a dimly lit corner of the room, out of the public eye. Darcy relaxed slightly, and let herself mold into his arms instead of cringing from the amused stares of the Aesir. She rested her head against the base of his neck, the top of her head faintly brushing against his chin.

"You know, I rather like this form of dancing," Loki said casually. "I think it could really catch on."

"It wouldn't work if I were wearing a short skirt," Darcy pointed out. "Besides, we look ridiculous."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Okay, _I _look ridiculous."

"On the contrary. I think the word you're searching for is 'cute.'"

Darcy crossed her arms. "You're making fun of me," she said, fighting a smile.

"Not at all." Loki's voice was mock-solemn, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Liar."

"I have never lied to you, and I never will lie to you," he said seriously. Darcy met his eyes. He stared back at her, his irises a deep, stormy shade of green, all traces of humor gone from his face. "Tell me the truth, Darcy: is it really so awful to dance with me like this, effortlessly, just letting me carry you?"

She sighed, lowering her gaze. "No," she said in a low voice. She closed her eyes and shifted her shoulders so she fit snugly against him. "I kind of like it."

"Then why fight it?"

"Because that's what we do. We fight."

"Sometimes." He hesitated. "Alright, most of the time." Darcy giggled. "But in jest," he said, "because we're both too mischievous and proud to admit that maybe we're alright with being vulnerable. Please, Darcy. I'm not too proud to confess that you've turned me into a soft-hearted fool. Let me have this one dance."

"I can do that," Darcy said. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his timidly. They kissed lightly, their lips barely touching. But even as they broke apart, a slow, lulling thrum and a quick, fluttering harmony pulsed in tandem, the two parts distinct yet indivisible as a duet.

And so they danced, two heartbeats kissing and tangling to the point of inseparability, their bodies gracefully spiraling towards some unspoken destination.


	25. Dear Readers

Dear Readers,

The overwhelming consensus was that I should write a sequel. However, there was not the same level of unanimity (unanimousness?) regarding the subject of such a sequel-some readers indicated that they would like an Avengers-based sequel, while others wanted a mythology-based story. One reader suggested that I should make the next story more relationship/emotion-driven rather than epic-action-science-fiction-fantasy-adventure-base d, and that I should have Darcy return to Earth to see her friends and so forth. I can appreciate all of those viewpoints, but I cannot make all of them happen at once.

SO, here is what I will do: the sequel will have a plotline derived loosely from Greek mythology, and it will have a lot of action/adventure elements like "Mendacity" did, but it will also have more fluffiness, more relationship development between Loki and Darcy, etc.

Let me just say that it has been great fun writing this story, and I am thrilled (and astonished) to receive so much praise for it. You have been wonderful readers.


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